Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The witching hour always fascinated Alastor, even when he was alive.

For most, it was a time of deep slumber. The early birds were long gone, their circadian rhythms well into a healthy REM cycle, likely to be up in a few hours, fresh as a daisy. As for the night owls, while some switched off far later, 3 am was the time most were falling asleep curled around the screens of their electronic devices.

Alastor’s smirk grows as he exits the front doors of the hotel, and they say he has problems.

There were exceptions, of course. The partygoers, late-night workers, the new parents up at the crack of dawn. The sleep schedules of such beings were a marvel to many, often making them akin to ghosts haunting the edges of society. Then there were the tortured insomniacs. Those only surviving on caffeine or stronger, struggling to ever fall into any semblance of a routine.

As he walks the outer perimeter of a hotel, Alastor has to admit he’s closest aligned to the latter category. In the past week, he’s made many attempts at laying his head down for the evening only to get up out of frustration when proven unsuccessful. Even tonight, a night where he knew full well there would be no relief from the constant buzzing in his head, he still tossed and turned for a few hours before giving up completely.

But there were too many variables, too many things to consider.

Many that could go wrong.

And far too many relying on him.

The impending carnage wasn't the problem. Alastor has lived through his fair share of exorcisms. Thrived, actually. He’d used them as an excuse to do some hunting of his own, doing away with demons that would be far too complicated to kill otherwise. Ones whose deaths he could easily blame on the exorcists after the state he’d left them in.

No, that’s not what’s eating away at him as he attempts to take in the many hastily erected tents and marquees from cannibal town.

Despite everything he’s ever sworn not to do, everything he stands for and everything he knows will lead to his downfall-

-Alastor’s become involved.

In his defence, his entanglement isn’t entirely his doing. While he’s taken liberties with how he’s going about things, Alastor’s under oath to see this fight through to the end.

He sighs heavily, mentally extending his planned walk as he resigns himself to passing out later than planned, hoping the few hours he manages to steal throughout tomorrow will be enough. He takes a turn towards the Hotel gardens around the back, hoping that the slightly lower lighting and lack of chaos will help his plight.

Or, at the very least, give him enough peace to think.

If he had his way, he wouldn’t have become involved at all. Certainly not until everything was in ruins, and the princess of hell was either desperate, vulnerable, or dead. But no matter how hard Alastor tries, he can’t push the blame of how involved he’s become solely onto the terms of his deal either.

No one had a knife at his throat to give Charlotte the connection with Rosie, there were no threats for him to hand over the information about how the angels could be killed. While the deal he’s made is sure to come in clutch, it pales in comparison to the upper hand he’s given the rag-tag band of misfits he’s been sharing his life with for the past six months.

It could be argued that he’s giving himself the backup he needs to win, but that’s a stretch at best.

And then….there was the other matter.

That one, foolish, night. The one where Alastor had laid out all his chess pieces only to be beaten at his own game.

That certainly wasn’t part of his fucking plan.

Nor did he expect to find himself in the predicament of having certain images burned into his head that no amount of self-control could wash away.

Devour me.

Alastor reaches into his breast pocket, humming in dissatisfaction. The somehow still working pocket watch he barely uses confirms that it's barely been ten minutes since he left his room for some fresh air.

Which in itself isn’t alarming, but, he’s not exactly able to stop examining it in excruciating detail.

To bring him to admit the truth. That he’s not himself.

In fact, Alastor would even go so far as to say he’s restless.

So much so that not even his old faithful, a walk in the crisp air before dawn, is even coming close to clearing his mind. He’s someone who is supposed to be able to find solace in the silence. And yet, it currently feels like his skin is itching to remove itself from his bones.

It will all be over soon.

The exorcist clock currently sits at a meager two days. When it hits midday, that will tick to one. He’ll find peace in the final hours of preparations, the one thing out of this whole tangled mess Alastor’s actually looking forward to. Being the secret weapon has all the prestige he’s ever craved, yes, but that’s not what has him excited.

No, he’s gunning for their plan to fail. What Alastor is truly itching for is a chance to really flex his skills against a worthy opponent.

From what he’s gleaned, the leader of the exorcists is powerful but far more cocky in his abilities than he has any right to be. Not to mention he’s rumoured to have his head shoved so far up his ass that he won’t even be able to comprehend that a mere sinner would even have the strength and cunning to take him on.

Yes, Alastor can’t wait to show this ‘Adam’ what a careful culmination of power can look like.

His smile turns genuine as he heads for a bench on the outskirts of the Hotel’s bounds. It sits alone in the middle of what he imagines was once a great garden before falling into its current state of disrepair. Which is one of the reasons he favours it over any of the better-maintained parts of the grounds. Without any foliage, he can see past the mountain peaks that surround Pentagram City into the barren wasteland. Where the landscape is filled with bubbling pits and vast deserts stretching as far as the eye can see.

Some of his inner turmoil dissipates as he stares into the abyss, a wave of calm cloaking him. The calm before the storm.

…

Soon it would be time to take up arms. For him to pull out all the stops in a fight to the death. Time for Alastor to channel all his frustrations into defending his place as one of Hell’s finest.

…

His current mental state is merely a product of its environment, nothing more.

It would all pass as soon as the battle was over.

Wouldn’t it?

Alastor can’t stop his lip from twitching into a snarl as he considers the alternative.

That he, despite everything he thinks about himself, is distracted.

To put it lightly.

Devour me.

The blunt version is that a certain King of Hell has managed to burrow into his subconscious, and with each passing day, that feeling is getting more…intense.

It’s been almost a month since Lucifer visited him. A month since he’d felt that lithe body against his own. A month since he’d had the thrill of making the King of Hell scream.

Or tasted that sweet angelic blood on his tongue.

It was more than that though. Lucifer had well and truly flipped the script on him when he’d taken his leave, a move that should have Alastor swearing off ever wanting to see him again.

But it’s only made his cravings far more intense. Made it so he keeps coming back to the thought of putting him in his place in every single way possible.

Alastor places his elbows on his knees and then leans his face into his hands to hide it from view. He sighs again, heavily, while contemplating how this is even fucking possible. Any other time he'd had even the most fleeting feelings of desire for another being, they’d vanished as soon as he had his way with them.

This, evidently, was not the case when Lucifer was involved.

He still wanted to tear him limb from limb. And watching such a stuck-up, over-the-top- obnoxious brat be utterly humiliated was still at the top of his wish list.

But the ways in which his traitorous mind imagined doing so…

Lucifer, the King of Hell, bound and placid for his amusement.

Lucifer, smirking and back-chatting something designed to rile him up, speech broken with heavenly moans.

Lucifer’s tears slipping down his face as he breathlessly begs for more and more.

It doesn’t help that the power to cross that line again rests in his hands, either.

When he’d finally been able to slip away from the drama around the heavenly visit, Alastor had been looking forward to toying with the King’s possessions, figuring out all the ways he could hold them to ransom. He was more than a little disappointed to find Lucifer’s hat and cane to be absent when he returned to his quarters.

So much so it had taken him a few minutes to notice the scrap of paper left in their place.

But, Satan, he hadn’t been able to forget about that since.

That little note consisted of nothing more than a series of digits and a hastily scribbled message, but that didn’t stop it from invading his thoughts at least once a day.

Thanks for such a mind-blowing time, Al. I’ll be enjoying myself thinking about that big co-

Alastor pulls his hands down his face, regretting ever reading the damn thing.

Or keeping it. On his nightstand. Where it still sits to this day, taunting him.

And is there any wonder he can’t sleep?

Of course, Alastor would never call. It’s preposterous to even think about. No matter how much he can feel his stubbornness slowly eating away at him from the inside out, or how a fucking month with no other whisper of the King’s whereabouts continues to occupy so much of his mind.

But despite knowing he won’t, he’s kept the note. Refused to throw it away. Even sleep escapes him, making his feverish body toss and turn while thinking about what could happen if he did call.

If he would just swallow his pride and reach out, then maybe he’d stop being plagued with visions of white skin littered with bite marks.

Of swollen lips and tear-stained cheeks.

Of shaking limbs wrapping around his back, groaning in bliss while bottoming out inside that tight, slick, heat-

“Well, that’s an interesting expression.”

A rush of pure, unadulterated terror isn’t an over-exaggeration of what Alastor feels as he raises his head, confirming exactly who has managed to sneak up on him.

Like he wasn’t just playing that same voice over and over-

Lucifer is hovering, not standing, a few feet in front of where Alastor is sitting. His six wings flap softly as he descends, looking down at Alastor while a knowing smirk spreads across his otherwise angelic features.

Alastor’s chest tightens as that ice-cold trickle burns its way down his spine, becoming a feverish heat as it settles in his core.

Coupled with his previous thoughts, it’s no surprise that his animosity is already twining with a mixture of lust and hunger, but by Satan does he hate himself for it.

“And that one’s even better!” Lucifer teases as he lands on the ground, wings folding in as he closes the already small gap between them, “Penny for your thoughts, Bambi?”

Asshole

Alastor gives himself a beat to channel his rage into something else, regaining his composure by suppressing every single thought of reaching out and grabbing that thin waist to pull Lucifer into his lap.

Even if the lack of the usual tacky coat-tails has well and truly piqued his interest, Alastor’s mask slips on like a well-worn glove.

“Lucifer,” Alastor grins manically, tilting his head to the side with a dramatic crack, “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Oh, you know.”

Without warning Lucifer disappears in a cloud of smoke.

A second later, there’s a weight at Alastor’s side, telling him the King is sitting far too close to him on the bench.

“I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd stop by.” Lucifer shuffles in closer still, his thigh brushing against Alastor’s and searing him through his clothing, “Again.”

“At three in the morning?” Alastor counters in the steadiest voice he can muster.

“Mhmm,” A concerned look clouds the King's features momentarily, “Insomnia is a cruel mistress. But then, I'm preaching to the choir here, am I right?”

Lucifer doesn't give space for an answer, shifting closer again so his entire leg is pressing against Alastor's.

With everything he's just been thinking about, Alastor almost snaps.

Every cell in his body tells him he needs to get up. To put some space between him and the fucking squirming weight by his side, lest he loses his hastily cobbled-together composure.

And he almost does. Almost pulls the same trick as Lucifer so he can be the one looming over the King, trapping him against the bench.

But the stray thought that this is exactly what the King wants makes him pause. Lucifer’s counting on him to find an excuse to leave so that he can mock him. It has him forcing his body to stay exactly where it is, to not betray him any more than it already has.

In more ways than one he thinks as he subtly squeezes his legs together.

“Quite.” Alastor replies, playing the game by moving the arm he has closest to Lucifer onto the back of the bench, tilting his body so they’re facing each other, “Well, I’m afraid all aboard are tucked up in bed and unable to entertain your whims, Sire.”

Lucifer’s brows raise, and Alastor can’t help his smile growing at the subtle victory.

It doesn’t last.

The King leans in, flicking the end of Alastor’s nose, “Apart from you.”

Despite Alastor’s best efforts, the air becomes thick with a static buzz. He sees his victorious expression stolen by the King, who makes no show in hiding the unsubtle bite of his lip as he continues to invade Alastor’s space by not retreating.

He takes a moment to reflect on how quickly this little tête-à-tête is escalating between them. It’s fascinating, even if the danger is lurking just below the surface. And just as addictive as it had been all those nights ago.

Just as tense.

Only now it's a different flavour. There’s still a coyness to their interactions, of course, but there’s no denying the dynamic between them has shifted.

Like a moth to the flame, Alastor can’t help taking the bait.

“Ah, well you know how it is,” he watches Lucifer’s face carefully as the tips of his fingers brush his shoulder, “Anxious captains and ships.”

He repeats the action, a little firmer, watching for any signs of a reaction.

When nothing happens, when Lucifer doesn’t so much as blink, he immediately ups the ante.

“We can’t have anything untoward happen to such-” Alastor moves the tips of his fingers up Lucifer’s arm, trailing until the ghost of his touch reaches the back of that pale neck, “-precious cargo.”

To his credit, The King doesn’t flinch.

The red tinge that has haunted Alastor for so many nights isn’t as easy to hide though.

“Anxious, huh?” Lucifer starts after clearing his throat, “Doesn’t sound like you at all, Al. Heh, Something must have got you-”

His body tilts towards Alastor, his hand mimicking that same featherlight touch.

Only, Lucifer softly trails his fingers up Alastor’s chest, setting his nerves on fire.

“-All rilled up?” He finishes, forked tongue flicking over his teeth for a split second.

That little-

“Oh, not at all!”

Alastor grabs the hand on his chest, clamping Lucifer’s fingers firmly between his own.

He removes it, slowly, letting Lucifer think he’s won for a few moments.

But he doesn’t let go.

“But there’s no harm in keeping a close eye on things,” He manipulates Lucifer’s hand, sliding his fingers against the more delicate digits as if exploring them for the first time, “When the hotel’s got such a huge target on its back, Well, there’s no telling what types of unsavoury folk could turn up.”

Pausing, he laces their fingers together for a split second.

It’s enough. Even without taking his focus off their hands, Alastor can hear the King’s breathing hitch.

“Especially in the middle of the night.” He adds, letting his smile grow as he finally looks back up to Lucifer’s face.

It’s then Alastor knows he was on the money that painfully long time ago.

He’ll never tire of seeing the King of Hell be flustered over so little.

“Wouldn’t you agree,” Emboldened, Alastor twists that delicate hand around harshly, placing a kiss on the back of the King’s knuckles, “Your Highness?”

Now, that gets the reaction Alastor has been looking for. Even in the ambient light shining from the hotel, there’s no mistaking how positively pink Lucifer turns from the kiss.

Even more so when Alastor doesn’t let go of his hand, placing a second kiss further down on his fingers.

It takes far more effort than it should for him to not just call it quits on their little game, to push Lucifer down on the bench and take them right back to where they left off.

To claim everything he’s been denying and torturing himself with for over a month.

But an inquisitive tilt of Lucifer’s head stops him in his tracks.

“That’s weird.”

Alastor, despite his better judgement, takes the bait, “Pray tell?”

The flip of that flushed expression into one of pure mischief causes his stomach to flip and his heart to leap into his throat. Alastor barely has time to react. Lucifer moves far too fast, using the leverage of their joined hands to swing his smaller body into Alastor’s lap.

Any chance of restraining the screech of radio feedback vanishes the second those plump thighs settle on either side of Alastor’s hip.

“You’re using a lot of formalities,” Lucifer presses his chest flush against Alastor’s erratically moving one, leaning up to whisper into his ear, “For someone who had their tongue in my ass.”

It’s like every emotion Alastor’s capable of feeling hits him all at once.

The air gets thick with static as he tries to process just how he’s gotten himself into this mess.

Again.

And just how something that not only pushes his buttons but relentlessly slams them can be so fucking addicting.

He knows he should stop, make his excuses, and leave before he ends up falling further down the rabbit hole. But when Lucifer pulls back into view, biting his lip, challenging him, Alastor’s completely powerless to resist.

“That-” He coughs, pretending his voice didn’t just crack, “That may have slipped my mind.” He runs the hands he has on Lucifer’s hips around his back, keeping him in place, “I did mention how terrible my memory can be.”

“Bullshit,” Lucifer replies, but the smile he offers is genuine.

And dangerously endearing.

So much so that Alastor allows himself a few moments to really take in the heavenly being in his lap.

It’s then that he realises two things. The first is how bizarre this interaction between them is. How they've gone from not seeing each other for what feels like an age to picking up exactly where they left off is beyond his comprehension and then some. The second being that despite Lucifer's uncanny knack of boiling his blood, their little dance feels alarmingly natural.

Alastor shakes himself out of that line of thinking by pulling the King closer, adding another confusing emotion to the ever-growing pile he has with Lucifer’s name on it. He keeps one arm around Lucifer's back and brings his other hand to the King’s face. He lets his smile grow as he cups that warm cheek, waiting for those golden eyes to sparkle before continuing.

“Well, that may be an exaggeration, I’ll admit,” He grazes his claw down Lucifer’s soft skin, pressing in just enough to slice his flesh, “You're not what I'd call a forgettable experience.”

Alastor watches those same eyes cloud with desire as he brings his claw to his mouth, letting Lucifer see first-hand his first reaction to that forbidden fruit.

The taste explodes on his tongue, and the hitch of Lucifer’s breath tells him he feels how much that drop is affecting him.

Even without that, the squirming in his lap to feel even more of his growing erection is a dead giveaway.

“However,” Alastor continues, flicking his tongue over his teeth to catch more of the taste that’s awakening his senses, “We’ve been quite busy as of late, preparing for the heavenly hoard-”

He tilts Lucifer backwards, ignoring the way the friction sends a jolt up his spine to get the angle just right, mimicking the scene that’s spent the past month constantly replaying in his mind.

“-And with so much riding on the upcoming attack,” He continues, tone level and lacking any hint of the practically salacious scene unfolding before him, “Well, it’s quite hard to recall previous events”

To add insult to injury, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his hand around that pretty neck. They slot together like puzzle pieces as he finds the beat of Lucifer's pulse point, presses his thumb against that sweet spot, and squeezes.

“Especially when the reminder of such events,” He draws his words out, smile growing as Lucifer’s breathing becomes shallower, “Has been notably lacking.”

There’s a noise akin to a soft whine that escapes Lucifer’s pursed lips, then those big eyes glaze over with the first signs of fresh tears.

And once again, Alastor’s hypnotised.

He ignores the voice in the back of his head telling him it’s a trap as he leans forward, drinking in every last detail of this particular expression. While they both know that Lucifer can overpower him in seconds when he wants to, there’s an unmistakable glimmer of fear as he unsuccessfully gasps for breath.

Lucifer is once again handing Alastor his reigns, the very act of doing so seeming like a way for him to believe the fantasy. All at once some of the previous puzzle pieces slot into place, Alastor feels his body heat up with renewed desire, and he becomes increasingly aware of their surroundings.

That, once again, they’re running a very real risk of being caught.

And how much that makes his concealed length throb.

Alastor loosens his grip on Lucifer’s throat, trying not to let the internal questioning of his previously unknown predilections for risky encounters show on his face

“Oh, you're good,” Lucifer purrs, rolling his lower half purposefully in Alastor’s lap until he’s back upright, “And right too. I would have come sooner if I'd known you'd be so eager.”

Oh that fucking-

“Careful what you wish for,” Alastor snaps his teeth, looking Lucifer up and down slowly, “Sire.”

He winks uncharacteristically, which proves its weight in gold as Lucifer flushes bright red.

In other circumstances, he supposes such an action could be considered flirting. Even if that notion is utterly ridiculous, Alastor can’t ignore how satisfied he already feels. Besides, despite how little interest he has in the matter, he’s content in knowing that romantic whimsy isn’t paired with wanting to kill the object of your attention.

Usually. Even if that notion is quite an interesting one.

“Heh- I’ll hold you to that.”

The form in Alastor’s lap steals his attention again by righting his position, shifting forward until they’re practically chest to chest. The heat coming off such a small body shouldn’t be possible, and yet he feels every inch of where they’re connected, the touch searing his skin through his clothes.

Even more when Lucifer refuses to stay still.

It takes a moment and a sharp exhale from Alastor as his stirring erection is brushed against so perfectly to realise there’s a definite intent.

That Lucifer is, in fact, choosing to slowly circle his hips.

To grind against him. In public. Again.

Alastor can’t help himself. He raises an eyebrow as his hands find the curve of Lucifer’s hips, the tips of his claws slipping up Lucifer’s shirt to brush against his bare skin.

Accidentally, of course.

“B-but to answer your question,” Lucifer pulls the right corner of his bottom lip between his teeth and rolls it as his back arches, “I didn't want to interfere with any of Charlie’s plans without invitation. I’m not gonna push her, not again.”

Those big eyes flicker with something Alastor recognises as pain, the raw vulnerability stilling his exploring hands momentarily.

“And hey, if she needed me, then she’d call…” Lucifer pauses, looking up at Alastor with a sheepish expression, “Heh, right?”

The possibilities flood Alastor’s mind as he quickly considers how to respond. He’s itching to level the playing field again, to take the cocky little shit down another peg. Or several.

The opportunity dangles in front of his eyes, calling to him.

But then the opposing call to reassure the fragile being in his clutches hits him out of nowhere.

Knowing he doesn’t have the time to analyse whatever the fuck that is, Alastor switches to a different approach.

“Why of course, Sire.” He says in a mocking tone, hands holding the King still against him, “I’m sure your daughter will have no problem relying on someone that only showed an interest when their authority was threatened by someone else.”

The misdirection works. Lucifer’s mouth drops like he’s been punched in the gut. The next second the hurt fades, those wide eyes flaring with a mixture of indignation and, surprisingly, the same level of twisted arousal Alastor can easily imagine also painting his own features.

Especially when Lucifer chooses the moment he’s being insulted to restart his grinding.

Alastor is forced to quickly reconsider his notions about flirting as the sudden stimulation has him hissing through his teeth. And how far off he was regarding whatever the fuck is going on between them.

“That someone so insignificant could steal her trust,” He continues, his hands resuming their exploration to splay against the small of Lucifer’s back, “Well, you’d never hear the end of that, isn’t that right?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrow as his smile grows manic, “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

“I’m aware.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he brandishes his claws downwards, digging in until his fingertips become wet with fresh rivulets of blood.

It’s then, and only then, that he's rewarded with Lucifer trying to hide his first moan.

It’s just as heavenly as he remembers, his sounds so delicious even as they’re stifled by a hand flying up a little too late. It’s so familiar to their last encounter, and yet so different with the front row seat to the King falling apart in his lap. He could obsess over the details for days. How flushed Lucifer is, how he’s desperately trying to hide what his body wants. There’s the shudder of humiliation too, the side of Lucifer that so awkwardly tries to mask while Alastor seeks it out.

Just how much the King wants to turn to putty in the right hands is fascinating to him, spurring on thoughts of just how far this could go.

Even if Lucifer could destroy him in the blink of an eye, Alastor can’t help wondering how the rest of his insides will taste.

He brings his fingers back to his mouth, chuckling as the performance throws Lucifer off balance. The thrill he gets watching the King try to return to his seat while he cleans the tips of his claws is almost akin to how much pleasure he imagines bouncing that smaller body in his lap would bring.

While Alastor would pay good money to watch that face crumple in ecstasy as he drives him to the brink again and again, he’s convinced their little game has escalated quite enough for now. He still hasn’t figured out just why in all the seven hells Lucifer has just appeared in the middle of the night, and he plans to get to the bottom of that.

Or, alternatively, to do that before he loses his mind and throws Lucifer over the nearest available surface.

The old stone birdbath looks steady enough.

“While I’d love to hear more of those noises, Sire,” Alastor snaps his teeth, trying to hide the way he’s swallowing to dampen down the static in his voice, “I’m afraid I’m a little too busy at the moment to consider a repeat-”

“-You’re assuming a lot there Alastor,” Lucifer interrupts him, winking before placing his arms around his neck, “-Or am I that good a fuck that I’m all you can think about?”

He doesn’t let Alastor answer before tilting his hips, rocking them down so his plump ass slides against the full length of his concealed cock.

Alastor bites his lip, stifling a loud groan as his mind is flooded with echoes of a singular word.

Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.

His hands fly back to Lucifer’s body, trying to still him even as his hips buck instinctively upwards, “I have no idea-”

“-Don’t bother.” Lucifer cuts him off again, rolling his hips in a circle as his lips part in a soft o shape, “You may be able to talk your way out of a lot of things, but- oh- but you’ve got a few tells.”

He moves his hands to the back of his head, flapping them above his hair.

Alastor does his best not to react, thankful that he still has his bottom lip between his teeth to restrain himself from biting back when he doesn’t have a clear mind.

The slight pain helping him to keep his ears from mimicking the degrading action is a just welcome bonus.

As is the flash of annoyance on Lucifer’s face when he doesn’t take the bait.

Which, in hindsight, is a warning.

“And hey, I meant what I said last time-”

-Lucifer rocks his weight forward, shifting his body until it’s his own very hard length pressing against Alastor’s cock-

“-I wouldn’t-”

-He presses all his weight into thrusting his hips forward, the drag of their clothing providing the perfect amount of friction-

“-Hesitate-”

-He grabs Alastor’s shoulder, using it as leverage to rapidly rock his hips until the most sinful, unashamed moan spills from his lips.

“Fuck,” Alastor groans, composure momentarily breaking as he surrenders himself to the explosion of fireworks behind his eyes.

When he comes back to himself, when his eyes snap open and he sees the absolutely salacious smile on Lucifer’s face, he can practically see the scales tilting entirely in the King’s favour.

Shit.

“Oh how I’ve missed those sounds, Alastor-” He licks his teeth, brushing Alastor’s chin with the tips of his claws before leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “But this isn’t why I came here tonight.”

In a blink Lucifer disappears for a second time, leaving Alastor to use every ounce of willpower he has left to not whine at the loss of the comfortable weight in his lap. When Lucifer reappears standing by the same birdbath he’d clocked earlier, he’s reminded just how much out of his depth he truly is.

And how little self-preservation he has… since he has no intention of giving up any time soon either.

“So why are you here?” Alastor crosses his legs, cringing at how aroused he’s become in such a short time, “Your majesty.”

The last words are spat a little too harshly, putting another nail in the coffin of his crumbling self-composure.

If Lucifer notices, he makes no comment, choosing instead to hop himself on the stone structure and start swinging his legs.

The dichotomy between the creature of sin that had been in his lap moments ago and the impish trickster before him sends Alastor reeling.

“Word on the grapevine is you’re a big player in the plan to defend the hotel,” Lucifer points in Alastor’s direction, brows raising, “And that you’ll be the one trapping the exorcists away from their commander.”

Well, now that’s something.

Alastor has to stop his lip from curling upwards as he tries to process how the fuck Lucifer could know that. Their plans aren’t exactly secret, but currently, they’ve only been discussed between the original residents of the hotel.

And Alastor knows for a fact that none of them have been calling the King of Hell up to fill him in on the plan, not even his own daughter. He stands up, intrigued, walking towards where Lucifer is looking him up and down with lowered lids.

“And you’ve come upon this information how, exactly?”

Alastor tilts his head, cementing the challenge.

The close proximity he chooses to stand in has absolutely nothing to do with missing feeling the heat of Lucifer’s body against him.

Nothing at all.

“I have my sources.”

Lucifer scoffs and clicks his teeth against his tongue when Alastor does little more than widen his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” The King places the same accusatory finger against Alastor’s chest, jabbing him a little too firmly, “You know better than most that you don’t stay in power without a web of confidants.”

In the darkness, it’s hard not to hear the lowered tone Lucifer slips into as a threat, even more so when it’s coupled with the gold of his eyes flickering like a flame.

Alastor, against the warning in his head telling him now is not the time to be a stubborn ass, stays silent.

“And while your little forcefield idea sounds great,” Lucifer continues, trailing his finger up Alastor’s chest until he’s at the base of his throat, “What’s your big plan if it fails?”

“Oh, it won't.”

Alastor leans into Lucifer’s finger for a moment, effectively choking himself as he wills the darkness to consume the space around them. His shadows surround Lucifer, never quite touching him, but enough to make his small form tremble in the night air.

“The slaughter will be over before Adam figures out how to break it,” He waits until Lucifer shivers again before moving closer, boxing him in, “I’ve been informed that he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

There’s a crack of static, a creak of his antlers growing rapidly, and a blurring of his vision as the familiar dials replace his pupils.

“But when he does-” Alastor’s voice warps with several layers of feedback, becoming more inhuman as reality glitches around them, “I’ll be ready to tear him apart, limb from limb.”

He’s done this show before, struck fear in the hearts of anyone unlucky enough to cross him. Not to mention he’s even had some of the most feared overlords shaking like a leaf when he’s shown them a mere glimpse of his power.

Lucifer trembles before him, that much is familiar. But it’s definitely not out of fear. Despite Alastor looming over him, looking like he’s about to swallow him whole, Lucifer isn’t phased. He swings his legs apart, leaning back on his trembling arms while biting his lip in anticipation.

Everything about him saying he wants Alastor to take him to bed and rip him apart.

Alastor’s pretty sure the antlers on his head grow to double their size as he tries to process how much he wants that too.

“So…” Lucifer sticks one of his feet out, gliding it up the back of Alastor’s leg, “Have you ever fought an angel before?” He shifts himself forward, straining his neck to give the monster surrounding him the most coquettish of looks, “Or more importantly, did you win?”

Changing tact, Alastor takes the invitation of Lucifer’s open legs, slotting himself between them then slamming his hands on the stone either side of the King’s hips. He morphs back to his usual state, all but the teeth he keeps elongated as he invades the space around the King’s neck.

He waits for the hitch, for the quiver of pale flesh, before snapping them dangerously close.

“Once,” He eventually replies, moving around Lucifer’s face so he can see the purposeful lick of his teeth, “Who won is still up for debate,” he makes eye contact, lip curling to put everything on display, “But I did make him scream my name.”

It takes a second for that flushed face to catch up, but when Lucifer does his seductive demeanour cracks. He laughs, kicking his legs before re-wrapping one around Alastor’s back, pulling him closer still.

“I didn’t know there was a decent sense of humour underneath all that bullshit, Al,” Lucifer teases, sticking out his tongue as their bodies re-slot together, “But now you mention it, I guess you’re right. And for the real fight, I could give you some pointers.”

Alastor, despite everything, can’t help the way his chest seizes at the return of contact and the trill of laughter that echoes around his head.

Again, he knows he should stop, but he just can’t resist the siren call coming from those lips.

“Do tell, I’m on the edge of my seat-” Alastor smirks, pulling Lucifer forward by sinking his claws back into those plump hips, “-Oh wait, no. That’s you.”

There’s more laughter, Lucifer’s limbs wrapping further around him, and Alastor can’t stop the genuine smile crawling across his face.

He catches it from dropping when he realises just how fucked he is already.

“I was thinking, you could have a bit of a practice run,” Lucifer continues, his hands coming to rest on Alastor’s chest, fiddling with his lapels, “Figure out where you can easily outsmart someone with more raw power.”

“And that someone-” Alastor tilts Lucifer’s chin up, not able to resist the urge to swipe his thumb over his bottom lip, “-Would that be you by any chance?

Lucifer shivers at the simple touch, a reminder he’s just as affected by their little game as Alastor is. One that further breaks Alastor’s resolve, even as he considers the proposition the King is clumsily laying before him.

“Well, yeah.” Lucifer’s eyes narrow as he traces the white line on Alastor’s suit, “Don’t you want a chance to show me what you’re made of?” He bites his lip, wiggling his hips from side to side, “Again.”

On that, Alastor does pause.

While he’s far too proud to admit it out loud, the idea of fighting an enemy of unknown power has been gnawing away at his psyche for the past few days. He’s used to doing extensive research on anyone who poses a threat, but all they have to go on is the newly discovered fact that exorcists can be killed.

He doesn’t know if that extends to Adam as well. Or what his fighting style is. Or even if he can stand toe to toe with him at all.

But Lucifer, the King of Hell himself, the former angel…

Who could ask for a better sparring partner?

Not to mention, it certainly would be one way to dispel the mounting tension that’s currently overwhelming them both.

Or… he thinks as his smile turns wicked, it will add to it even more.

“It’s not a terrible suggestion,” Alastor muses, pulling Lucifer’s chin towards him while tilting his head in the opposite direction, “But I'm beginning to think you’re just looking for excuses to spend time with me.”

There’s a sharp inhale, the heat of an unsteady exhale, then a breathy whisper far too close to Alastor’s lips, “Maybe I am.”

Alastor keeps them there, teasing by wetting his own lips, trying not to lose himself in the shimmering of those golden eyes.

Just give in.

He breaks away at the last moment, watching with amusement how quickly Lucifer’s brow furrows in disappointment.

A needed distraction from the pounding in his chest, that’s for sure.

“That’s-” Lucifer cuts himself off with a full-body shiver, “That’s just a bonus, though. I want to see you win.”

He snaps himself out of the daze, smiling as he pulls Alastor close by tangling his hand in his shirt, “Show those bastards who the fuck they’re dealing with.”

If Alastor thought he had any chance of escaping those clutches tonight, they’re now completely dashed. He sees the uninhibited bloodlust, the side of Lucifer he’s only caught flashes of previously.

Former angel or not, this is the side of Hell's ruler he’s been dying to see.

And yet here he is, being handed a chance to see what such a being would be like in battle, and he’s dawdling?!

Alastor can practically hear the screams of their combined victims as he lets Lucifer pull him even closer, the fantasy alone reigniting the inferno inside him.

“What should I assume you’ll gain from such an exchange, hmm?” He purrs as Lucifer’s hand tangles further into his shirt, moving his own hands up those plush thighs, “I doubt you’d offer me this without a hefty price.”

Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, but Alastor cuts him off by sliding his thumbs into the crease between his pelvis and the tops of his trembling thighs. The King chokes on air, his whole body locking up momentarily as his next breaths come out as pants. There’s a deeply needy whimper when Alastor takes advantage of his discovery, running his thumbs slowly downwards towards the heat of his core.

Mentally taking notes to abuse the sensitive spots relentlessly as soon as he gets the chance.

“Mhmm, you can consider it a down payment to that little quid pro quo,” Lucifer’s bottom lip quivers, eyes going hazy as Alastor continues to caress him through his tight pants, “That we're yet to-oh- to iron out.”

Interesting.

Alastor had far from forgotten about the promise of an agreement between them, even if he’d filled it away as something said in the heat of the moment. Which, oddly, had stopped him from considering it as a real possibility. While this situation could be read similarly, with Lucifer’s hands literally shaking while tangled in Alastor’s shirt, him being the one to bring it up has all sorts of things spinning in Alastor’s mind.

Just how far could this go?

He dips his thumbs lower, staring straight into the golden flames dancing in Lucifer’s eyes, “You know exactly where I've been.”

“And you me,” He gasps as Alastor’s claws turn inward, ignoring the fabric barrier to dig into his flesh, “But, more pressing matters, correct?”

Alastor smirks, finally breaking eye contact to begin a descent towards Lucifer’s throat, “Correct.”

“But that’s not-” Lucifer shudders as hot breath tickles his neck, the hand he has in Alastor’s shirt twisting until the sound of thread ripping fills the minute space between them, “I mean, I-I’ve been thinking about that night,” He whines as Alastor continues the double assault, his claws moving dangerously close to the strained seam of his pants, “Heh, maybe more than once.”

“Is that so?” Alastor chuckles, finally unfurling his tongue to lick a single stripe across the goosebumped skin, “Well, I’d love to refresh your memory...”

He ignores the whine as he moves away from Lucifer’s neck, especially when it’s replaced with more panting when he reaches the King’s ear.

“-But as you said.” Alastor continues, stealing a glance at the side of Lucifer’s flushed face as he runs the tip of one of his claws up the length of Lucifer’s concealed cock, “More pressing matters.”

He leaves it there for a beat, the weight of their barely concealed lust hanging heavily in the air before he finally returns the disappearing act. He doesn’t go as far, catching Lucifer from behind when he loses his balance.

Also, unlike Lucifer, he doesn’t use the change in position to break their contact. He pulls the smaller body almost all the way off the stone birdbath, sliding slightly to his side with a firm arm wrapped around the entirety of his thin waist. He pulls Lucifer as close to him as possible, sighing heavily into soft hair at the much-needed contact.

When that plush ass instinctively arches into him, dangerously close to his crotch, he can barely contain the hiss through his clenched teeth.

“Much more pressing,” He adds, tightening his grip even further.

Lucifer, for lack of a better description, completely melts.

“Fucking hell, Alastor,” He says, his voice far more delicate than he’s ever heard despite the vulgar language, “You really are something else.”

Alastor chuckles at the compliment, treating himself to a sharp inhale of that heavenly scent coming from the top of Lucifer’s head, “You’ve changed your tune.”

“No sh-it-”

Lucifer cuts himself off with a moan when Alastor reaches between his legs. His larger hand consumes the King's straining cock, giving some much-needed relief if the outburst is anything to go by.

“-Oh, fuck.”

“That’s more familiar,” Alastor teases, pressing the heel of his palm into Lucifer’s crotch, static lacing his tone when the King’s hips buck upwards, “I wonder how high your voice can go, your majesty.”

What he gets in return is even better than he could hope for. A series of short ascending whines while Lucifer’s hips arch upward, chasing the high. His head hits Alastor’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut as his hands grab at anything he can reach.

Alastor keeps him there, twisting his fingers around to play the King like one of his violins as his cheeks start to burn. He teases the tip, wanting nothing more than to tear those tight pants to shreds a second time. He knows they should stop, that Lucifer’s being far too loud, that he shouldn’t even be wanting this, and that they’re once again walking on thin ice.

But…everything about Lucifer is far too addicting.

So much that Alastor loses himself in those sweet sounds, focusing on running his thumb across the growing wet patch around the head of Lucifer’s cock, not noticing that Lucifer’s twisted enough to be staring right at him.

Until it’s too late.

“Take me up on my earlier offer, Alastor,” Lucifer licks his teeth, practically hovering in mid-air as he stares up at his captor, “You’ll find out.”

It’s surprising enough for Alastor to loosen his grip, and that’s all Lucifer needs. In seconds he’s out of Alastor’s grasp, spinning off the birdbath and almost plummeting to the ground.

Catching himself at the last second by unfurling his wings.

They’re just as magnificent as when Alastor first laid eyes on them, even more so than the brief flash earlier, but now he has a front-row seat to their splendour. All six wings expand to their full span, feathers bristling as their owner smirks down at him. Lucifer flies several feet upwards, his wings blocking out the light from the hotel behind him, casting shadows on his features before he slowly descends back down.

Towards where Alastor is momentarily spellbound by the display of raw power before him.

Power which for some reason, can’t get enough of what he has to offer.

“That is,” Lucifer smirks, flapping his wings a few times until he’s hovering just over Alastor’s face, “If you manage to beat me.”

Alastor, for all his faults, manages to keep his poker face firmly in place.

“Oh my,” He tilts his head mockingly, extending his hand as green flame engulfs his hand, “Are you offering me a deal, Sire?”

He prepares for the rejection, his mind formulating the implications of the King’s cowardice, scathing remarks dancing on the tip of his tongue, and-

“Yes.”

Lucifer’s grin grows wider as Alastor’s internal radio flips through every channel available,

“Unofficially, of course,” He adds, winking, “Again, consider it a little taste of what’s to come.”

Once again, Alastor’s blood simmers to boiling point over the carrot dangling in front of his eyes.

It’s too good to be true, and he knows it. Lucifer’s toying with him again, his offer akin to dropping breadcrumbs in front of a starving child. He withdraws his hand, resisting the urge to ball it into a fist as he considers his next move.

What could he offer?

Lucifer wouldn’t be as naive as to agree to something without exploring every loophole, but-

His daughter certainly did.

Darkness creeps into Alastor’s expression, wondering if now is the time to bring up that little tidbit. To mention the small favour Charlotte promised to him when she was desperate. When she chose not to admit her failures, to avoid Lucifer’s calls out of shame and make a deal with him instead.

But now is not the time. Not when he’s got Lucifer’s interest in so many other ways.

He’ll wait for when he’s sure the King will offer to take her place. After the battle, when he’s got all the chess pieces in line to secure his freedom. When he can twist it so Lucifer has no other choice than to become indebted to the radio demon, with an entire Kingdom fit to crumble.

…To have Lucifer on his knees, fully subservient, begging for mercy.

Alastor suppresses a shiver, his arousal returning, hard and heavy between his legs.

Not yet.

“I see.” He purrs, rocking up on his heels to get closer to the heavenly being above him, “Well, consider my interest well and truly piqued, Sire.”

Lucifer flutters closer, breath dancing on Alastor’s face, “Shall we then?”

Alastor’s about to agree when another thought hits him. While a drone hasn’t drifted over to invade his privacy again thus far, it’s only a matter of time before a battle of such spectacle would draw more than Vox’s attention.

Not to mention what will inevitably come after, and how he’d rather not hold anything back this time.

Not when he has more than just a passing fancy over proving himself.

“Absolutely,” Alastor grins, shooting his hand into the air to wrap around the King’s neck as his wings flap erratically, “But not here.”

Chapter Text

Alastor takes a deep inhale of night air, rocking on his heels. He takes a step towards the verge he’s currently resting his microphone against, admiring the way the fireflies seem to sparkle in the long grass. Even this far away from the swamp, far further than he usually ventures in the pocket dimension he occasionally calls home, the noises of the lively yet serene riverbank are as thick as the fog of wet humidity.

Under usual circumstances, he’d use his sacred haven to unwind. To escape the chaos that being an overlord in Hell brings.

Where he can finally let his mask slip.

That’s not the case tonight.

He picks up his microphone, letting his fingers dance across the length in anticipation. He knows now’s as good a time as any, but he hesitates, not quite ready to accept the reality of his current situation.

Are they really doing this?

If the sounds of Lucifer preparing on the other side of the grassy field are anything to go by, then apparently so.

It’s obvious that the hastily drawn-together premise of this being a mere sparring session just doesn’t hold up, and they both know it. Alastor can choose to turn a blind eye to the mountain of tension still simmering between them as he watches the King’s every move in his periphery, sure, but that doesn’t even scratch the surface of how ludicrous this all is.

Lucifer is standing about fifty paces away, currently cycling through some sort of warm-up routine that Alastor sees for exactly what it is.

A performance.

He knows full well that Lucifer’s got the power to snap his fingers and end him in a matter of seconds if he really wanted to. In fact, he’s spent a few of his more recent sleepless nights wondering just why the King hasn’t ended him yet.

Especially with the golden opportunity of their last encounter, when he’d let his base desires win, and let Lucifer see sides of him he swore to keep hidden until the end of his days.

Well…obvious reasons aside that is.

He did show the King a good time. And their exchange before Alastor brought him back to his quarters tonight is a testament to him wanting to do it all again.

As Lucifer also stated. Several times and very clearly.

How much that boosts Alastor’s ego is a little alarming, but he does his best to ignore it while turning to face Lucifer properly. Without the tacky coat and pompous hat, he looks even less intimidating. If that’s even possible, that is. It’s hard to believe that such an unimposing form packs enough power to snap Alastor like a twig, but he’s heard the stories more times than he cares to count.

About how Lucifer, God’s favourite, has the ability to create whole universes out of thin air.

And end them, too.

Alastor can’t help but feel a sense of awe as his eyes momentarily flick to the stars, wondering if the being in front of him is responsible for painting the very sky above them. An unfamiliar sense of insignificance washes over him, bringing up the same anxieties about Lucifer ‘accidentally’ ending his life in the impending fight if he makes one wrong move.

He supposes the fact he’s won his daughter’s favour has something to do with why he’s on moderately steady ground. That no matter how much that little detail irks Lucifer, he wouldn’t interfere in Charlotte’s affairs.

It’s in that moment that Alastor’s never been more thankful to his past self for holding his fucking tongue for once.

He’s not even sure Lucifer would make his demise seem accidental if he knew about the deal.

Alastor swallows down the lump in his throat, bringing his focus back to the matter at hand before his wavering starts showing on his face.

How can he even stand a chance?!

The King isn’t facing him anymore, absentmindedly twirling his own cane as he looks towards the slow-flowing river. There’s a sense of kinship as Alastor considers how much of a fool's errand he’s on, especially with his senses still dulled from their earlier tryst.

How he needs to snap himself out of it if he wants to have even the slightest chance of gaining the upper hand.

Well he thinks, lip curling to expose the lining of his gums, Even if it’s doomed to fail, at least it will prove to be quite entertaining.

Fighting someone whilst internally battling himself to not just take any opportunity to fuck them into oblivion is definitely a new experience, to say the least.

Even so, as he grips his microphone between unsteady fingers, part of Alastor tells him to call the whole thing off.

The other part widens his smile before going in for the kill.

Alastor jumps in the air, swinging his microphone down, intending to land that first blow before Lucifer has time to prepare himself for impact.

Only, it takes until he’s a few inches away before the former angel even graces him with a reaction.

Lucifer twists to the side, blocking the strike from his microphone with his own cane in a far too practised manner.

By all logic, the flimsy pole shouldn't hold up against his sturdier microphone. But the power that the singular movement packs ricochets through Alastor’s arms, almost making him drop the staff for fear of his arms buckling under the pressure.

All while Lucifer’s manic grin floods his vision.

Alastor uses the momentum to bounce backwards, landing a few feet away to recalibrate.

He’s given less than a second.

The counterattack comes just as swiftly. Lucifer strikes him with his cane once on each side of his ribs before Alastor manages to interject his microphone and parry him.

Lucifer strikes the next blow just above his head, which Alastor manages to catch. The King leans into it, bringing them close enough for Alastor to feel the slightly elevated breaths tickling his face.

Time slows as the flicker of hellfire that definitely hasn’t haunted his dreams flickers in those golden eyes.

They part again, each landing with a soft thud on damp grass, their eyes immediately searching for each other without a second’s hesitation.

Sparks flying when they meet feels like an understatement, and Alastor’s pretty sure he doesn’t imagine the way his traitorous heart skips when Lucifer’s smile widens at the same rate as his own.

From there, it quickly escalates.

Their fight resembles something similar to the fencing lessons Alastor was forced to attend as a child. Except, instead of being beaten down by the burly jocks five times his size that had no business in the sport, the elegance in their combined movements feel perfectly in sync. He’s not used to fighting someone who matches his style so effortlessly, with each matched strike or well-caught spin making him feel more alive than he has in decades.

Worse still, the occasional blows he doesn’t catch are crossing his wires with the spikes of pain, muddling his senses even further.

Blurring lines that shouldn’t ever be blurred.

But the adrenaline coursing through him overshadows it all, and they easily fall into a rhythm with each other.

A dance.

The realisation stuns Alastor enough for him to momentarily lose focus, giving Lucifer the leeway he needs to strike him across the full length of his chest.

It winds him, forcing him to double over, falling to all fours.

Until Lucifer strikes him again, across the back this time, then he’s tasting dirt.

Alastor spins onto his back, cringing at the sound of his jacket tearing underneath him, just in time to feel the cool steel of Lucifer’s cane under his chin.

Forcing him to look up at the powerful being wielding it while his blood threatens to boil him from the inside out.

“Don’t look at me like that, Alastor.” Lucifer pouts, tilting his head to the side mockingly, “You didn’t expect me to go easy on you, did you?”

He trails his cane down Alastor’s chest, brows raising in an obvious challenge.

Again, Alastor’s far too headstrong not to take it despite the odds.

Or in spite of them.

“Not easy, your Highness!” Alastor laughs, smile growing as he sits upwards, letting the cane dig into his skin, “But perhaps not at full pelt?”

“Oh, ho! If you think this is everything I can do…”

Lucifer leans forward, folding his hands over the cane he’s pushing into Alastor with even more force.

Flames flicker around him before they wind down the staff from the gaudy apple to where it’s connected to Alastor’s chest.

Searing his skin, making him cry out in agony.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow as he licks his teeth, “Then you’re sorely mistaken.”

Alastor’s body throbs in response, making him want the ground he’s lying on to swallow him whole.

The desire he’s barely managed to extinguish comes back with a vengeance as Lucifer watches him through lowered lids, the extent of his strength evident through how little Alastor can move.

No matter how much he wants to deny it, knowing that he’s only just scratching the surface of Lucifer’s immense power is more of a turn-on than he can comprehend.

Because this otherworldly being, this god amongst mortals, has their attention laser-focused on him.

“Exactly!” Alastor chokes as the unnatural flames spread under his shirt, kissing his already feverish skin, “And as you keep reminding me, Sire-” He pauses to bite back a groan as that heady mix of pain and arousal licks up his spine, “-I’m simply a lowly overlord. A… lesser demon? I can’t exactly keep up with the King of Hell.”

“I said that once you petty little-”

The second he takes the burning cane off his chest, Alastor’s gone.

He slips through the shadows quicker than the speed of light, using up far too much energy just so he can appear behind Lucifer and pull him into a tight embrace.

“Hey!”

“On second thought-” He bites back a laugh as Lucifer struggles in his grasp, “Maybe I can.”

The upper hand is short-lived, but it’s glorious.

Lucifer pulls a similar disappearing act, giving him time to grab his microphone from the ground with a swift forward roll, turning around at the last second to block the King’s strike from above.

Earning Alastor his first real frown of the evening. A slight win, but a victory is a victory.

And a much-needed distraction from the unwelcome tingling in his arms from the loss of contact.

“Nice try, Al.” Lucifer scoffs, aiming for Alastor’s side but diverting it at the last moment, spinning mid-air to land the blow on his back, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Alastor grits his teeth, ignoring the dark blood dripping down his teeth to grab Lucifer’s cane, pulling him in close, “I should hope not.”

Lucifer laughs excitedly, “That’s more like it!”

His feet land on Alastor’s leg, taking advantage of his widened stance to dodge his next strike by flipping over him in the air.

Winking when Alastor looks up at him mid-somersault in a way that infuriates and excites him in equal parts.

And spurs him onto his next attack.

“Because really?”

Lucifer parries the strike effortlessly, their respective staffs clashing, the sound echoing around them in the otherwise peaceful air.

“That’s what’s been holding you back?” He jumps over the microphone as Alastor attempts to swipe under his legs, “Your status?”

Before Alastor can right his stance, the King disappears.

He only just manages to straighten up when he’s immediately crippled by a sudden weight on his back.

“I thought you were better than that, Al.”

Alastor throws him off quickly, and Lucifer lets him, falling to the ground before rolling right between his widened legs.

It instantly reminds Alastor of the last time he’d had Lucifer in such a compromising position. Before he’d pulled the rug from under him, disappearing through a portal and leaving him there on the balcony, confused and unbelievably hard.

He’s pretty sure his exasperated expression isn’t far off mirroring that night either.

“I thought you were someone who took his fate into his own hands,” Lucifer bites his lower lip, arching off the grass while stretching his arms above his head, “Guess I was wrong?”

That stuns Alastor to complete silence, making him forget everything else.

Lucifer is right.

In fact, he’s seen straight through to one of the values Alastor holds so dear, but has somehow forgotten in the overwhelm of fighting the literal devil. Static crackles around him, the eldritch powers he’s neglected over fighting tooth and nail surrounding him in heavy darkness.

His grin grows so wide enough to expose the stitching at the edges while his voice drops several octaves.

“So be it.”

The last thing he sees before the King disappears again is the shimmer of golden eyes sparkling in excitement. He anticipates his return far better with the half a dozen tentacles surrounding him, each one with the ability to sense the slightest change in the-

-There!

When Lucifer reappears, he’s met with a thick tentacle wrapping around his ankle. It quickly gains leverage, ignoring the surprised yelp to wrap itself up the King’s leg as Alastor turns to face him with a predatory leer.

The tentacle works quickly, binding Lucifer's ankle twice before pulling him down toward where Alastor is waiting for him. It’s quickly joined by a second, aiming for Lucifer’s wrist, securing itself around the thin joint before Lucifer has time to stop it.

Alastor ignores the thin trail of black drool dripping down the centre of his chin as he sees and feels more of his tendrils wrap around the King’s lithe form, holding him a few feet in the air. He’s never questioned how his ties to the eldritch horrors enable him to feel what they do to an extent before now. But with how wired his senses are it's hard to ignore the pleasurable shiver passing through him as he sends the final one to wrap around that pretty throat.

Even more so when he notices the heavy blush flooding the King’s cheeks as his cane drops to the floor, the memory of the last time he let his interest in his extra appendages slip flooding Alastor’s mind in an instant.

The tentacle around Lucifer’s waist tightens without Alastor’s instruction as the possibilities of where he could take this flicker in his mind's eye like a filthy picture show.

He takes a step towards where Lucifer is writhing in their grasp, static heavy on his tongue as he wonders how intense his link to the thick black tentacles can be if he focuses more of his attention on that unnatural bond.

When he reaches Lucifer, he extends a claw to his already heated cheeks, trying not to let the thoughts of caressing every inch of that pale skin show on his face.

Both externally and internally.

“Is this more to your liking,” Alastor purrs, digging the tip of his claw into the underside of Lucifer’s chin, “Your Highness?”

It earns him a look of wide eyes and the quivering of a plump lower lip. Tempting him to lean closer, to call the fight and take the alternative route that’s been taunting him all evening.

“It’s about time you brought these out,” Lucifer squirms, intentionally pulling his bindings hard enough for Alastor to feel the delicious sting, “I thought you were going to insist on holding out on me all night, but-”

Just like that, his tentacles smack into each other as their previous tense hold vanishes into nothing. It takes a few beats for Alastor to swallow the grunt of unexpected pain, then another to realise that Lucifer hasn’t actually disappeared.

The puff of smoke hides a lot, but the slick feeling of something sliding up one of his tentacles at rapid speed draws his attention.

And makes his smile tighten as he stares in disbelief at the brilliant white snake slithering around the black tendril.

It’s him. The smug expression is unmistakable even in this form.

What Alastor can’t figure out is how the fuck this is even possible.

Even less so when the snake slithers all the way up his tentacle, before throwing himself off, reappearing as his regular form less than an inch away from Alastor’s face.

“Impressed?” Lucifer gloats, his wings flying out to catch him so he can continue hovering in the air, “I don’t know why I’m asking, actually. Your face is a picture.”

Alastor doesn’t ignore the way his hand twitches around his cane, choosing to bring it up towards his tormentor.

Which Lucifer catches effortlessly.

Alastor pulls at his staff to free it, but to no avail, the mounting frustration spilling from his lips, “How did you-”

“-Lesson one!” Lucifer cuts him off, pulling him unreasonably close by their joint hold, “Always be prepared.”

Unable to let go, Alastor is forced to take in every detail of the former angel above him. The steady beat of wings around his head, the golden eyes shimmering as they narrow, the hot breath tickling his lips.

Lucifer throws him even further off by mirroring his earlier play, tilting his head to move his lips closer to Alastor’s.

His taunting smile fades, his eyes slipping shut as he purses those soft lips.

The sound of rapidly flipping radio channels fills the thick air between them as Alastor panics over how much he wants to close the final space between them. He screams internally, using every ounce of willpower he has left to not give in to something he wants so much he can literally taste it.

Even as his throat goes dry and his heart stutters in his chest.

A second ticks by. Then two. All while temptation incarnate dangles himself within reach.

Lucifer leans back slowly when he doesn’t take the bait, his golden eyes glittering with mischief as they dart all over Alastor’s face.

It’s only then that Alastor realises he almost let his permanent smile drop.

He extends it the second he realises, while Lucifer’s mocking laughter echoes around his head.

“Not giving in?” He taunts, licking his teeth as his eyes widen with excitement, “Oh! Maybe you’d prefer If I-”

There’s another puff of smoke, and then Alastor’s pretty sure he feels his stomach fall to the seventh circle of Hell.

Lucifer is almost his usual self, if one doesn’t count the fucking ears on the top of his head. They’re the spitting image of Alastor’s own, though they blend in with his blonde hair far too perfectly. They’re highlighted with red that match Lucifer’s cheek circles, which he seems to take pride in with the way he’s flicking them about mockingly.

Alastor can feel his face flushing brightly with a mixture of rage and a strange tickle of a long-forgotten instinct.

One that urges him to grab the imbecile in front of him. To throw him to the ground. To teach him a lesson in just why he shouldn’t be rilling him up like this unless he’s prepared for the consequences.

Because the worst part of Lucifer’s new torment is that it fucking suits him.

From the splattering of fawn spots on his face to the tiny horn nubs evidently meant to make him think of the fairer counterparts of the species he was cursed with, Lucifer looks the part and then some.

And it’s driving him insane.

“Oh, you should see your face!” The King winks and Alastor has to bite back an absolutely inhuman sound, “Wait, there’s more.”

Lucifer’s wings flutter as he turns around to show that his face isn’t the only thing that’s changed.

Just above the curve of Lucifer’s ass is a small tail in the same shades as his temporary ears.

It’s fluffy, perfectly formed, and terrifyingly accurate to the one Alastor keeps concealed at all times.

“This more your thing, Al?”

He looks over his shoulder, sticking out his tongue as he obscenely shakes his tail.

Alastor sees nothing but red.

“I may have taken a few liberties to- hey!”

There’s a loud crack of rapidly expanding antlers as Alastor uses his now-released microphone to strike a quick blow against Lucifer’s thigh.

It barely clips him before Lucifer turns himself back around, but it’s the first real blow he’s managed to land.

Alastor takes the grunt of pain as a victory, reminding himself that this is a fight he can win if he could fucking focus. Even if he’s sure he looks positively deranged with his still expanding antlers, blurred vision, and several lines of drool dripping down the mouth he can no longer close.

He strikes Lucifer again, missing a few times but finally clipping his left arm when he overextends himself. It’s barely a hit, but It’s a better alternative than him forgetting his decorum, grabbing the mockery in front of him, and giving into the beast Lucifer’s foolishly trying to coax out.

“That’s the last time I do anything nice for you.” Lucifer pouts mockingly, blocking Alastor’s next few attacks with his cane, “Or are you a little too pent up right now for this, deer boy?”

The words slice through Alastor’s facade just as deeply as the sight of the fake ears twitching on Lucifer’s head, but that’s not what’s shaking his composure.

No, with the King flying around him to dodge every haphazard strike with his microphone and every tendril sent his way, he’s giving him far too many glimpses of that damned tail.

Alastor can’t stop himself imagining how soft it would feel to lace his fingers through while using it as an anchor for hard, deep, thrusts.

“While this is very entertaining, Sire-” Alastor spits through gritted teeth, twirling his cane to finally land another blow against Lucifer’s left arm when he flies above his head, “-I hardly see how all this is relevant.”

He sends several tentacles behind him, attempting to grab the King on his descent. All but one miss, and the one that just manages to wrap around the top of his thigh ends up flinching when Alastor feels he’s not the only one still riled up.

He whips around to get Lucifer back into his vision, the victory of a heavier blush paling in comparison to the overwhelming urges making his skin itch.

Made worse when Alastor has to stop his assault to catch his breath, all while Lucifer’s eyes crawl down his body and land on the fly of his pants.

The fake ears even twitch in excitement when Lucifer’s smile turns coy, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Lucifer,” Alastor snars a warning, sending his tentacles to aim for Lucifer’s ankles and wrists and not batting an eye when the feeble attempt misses, “It’s not like this ability to transform is one that Adam shares, correct?”

“Hey now, don’t be a hypocrite,” Lucifer swerves through another tentacle attack, smoke covering him as he swaps his form into one sporting large golden wings, curved horns, and a ridiculous mask that moves with his expressions, “You’re just as partial to other forms as I am.”

While he’s right, Alastor can’t bring himself to respond. Not while he’s torn between wanting to taunt Lucifer for whatever ridiculous imitation he’s attempting, whilst also being flooded with relief at him dropping the far-too-accurate previous mockery.

Even if an instinctual part of him is screaming at him for missing his chance, the rest of Alastor is more than grateful for the uncharacteristic fog finally being lifted.

At least, it used to be uncharacteristic.

As he watches Lucifer flying around like an idiot, he’s not quite sure what counts as a normal reaction where the King is concerned anymore.

“See the difference between us,” Lucifer continues, his mask shifting through several overexaggerated expressions, “Is that while you favour the whole big scary monster schtick.”

He disappears in another cloud of smoke, performing a twirl to dodge more of Alastor’s attacks when he reappears in his normal form.

Finally

“I’m a firm believer-” Lucifer strikes out with his cane several times from above, pausing when their respective weapons become crossed around Alastor’s neck, “-That bigger things should be coming in small packages.”

Alastor pushes him off, only processing how incorrect that turn of phrase was as Lucifer lands a few feet away from him.

And how vulgar it could be read as.

Even as his mind floods with memories of a shivering body wrapped around his waist, the feeling of emptying himself deep while the taste of paradise dances tongue, his confidence is immediately bolstered.

Alastor places one hand behind his back before launching himself at Lucifer while every tentacle at his disposal flies with him, shooting past the King before closing around him from behind.

“You should watch what you’re saying, your Majesty,” He chuckles mockingly, tentacles grabbing at Lucifer’s clothing, tearing parts off as he continues the assault with his microphone, “Though I imagine you must be quite distracted for such an unfortunate slip of the tongue.”

Lucifer flies out of their grasp, righting his waistcoat before batting away the following tentacles with his cane, “Come again?”

Alastor shivers, his mind reeling with a month's worth of fantasies as his breathing becomes shallow.

He directs his tentacles to follow Lucifer’s move as he climbs higher, each one closer to wrapping around those slender limbs to drag him back down.

Completely Ignoring the small alarm bells ringing in the back of his head.

“I think you’ll find,” Alastor shouts upward, extending a hand engulfed in green flames as he calls more tendrils from the void to close around Lucifer at every angle, “The phrase is ‘good things come in small packages’.”

“Is it really?”

Despite Lucifer being at least twenty feet in the air by now, the voice he hears feels like it’s being spoken right into his ear.

There’s a screech of radio feedback as he spins around, desperate to find the cause of the chill running down his spine and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

But no one is there.

Shit.

He cranes his neck back to the sky, only to find his tentacles tangled around each other with nothing in between.

Shit!

Alastor curses himself as he lowers his stance to one of agile defence, preparing for the impending counterstrike. His lapse in concentration has cost him what little upper hand he’s managed to gain, but like hell is he going to let Lucifer sneak up on him again.

Ears tuned to the slightest bit of movement, he flits from side to side, swinging his microphone into the air while scanning the grassy plain for any sign of his opponent.

Which, of course, is his downfall.

“I think you’ll find you’re the one distracted, Alastor.”

He barely feels the shift in weight before hearing the flapping of wings surrounding him on both sides. Lucifer’s feet nudge at the hand he has wrapped around his microphone as he perches there, his face once again barely a few inches away from Alastor’s own. His wings flutter imposingly as he stabilises, giving Alastor a front-row seat to the utterly smug expression crawling across his still-flushed features.

In that moment two things run through Alastor’s mind.

The first is the sheer awe he can’t fully hide, even as his lip curls up into a snarl. Of how insanely humbling it is to have those magnificent wings surrounding his field of vision. That no matter his complex feelings for their owner, he can feel the hand he has tucked into his back practically twitching to reach out and run his fingers through the silky feathers just out of his reach.

The second is a surprising surge of excitement. The heightened levels of arousal are still simmering in his body, but the flash of exhilaration he feels as Lucifer smirks at him is both separate and intrinsically intertwined.

Truth be told, he can’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun.

“Which is lesson two.”

Lucifer’s face softens momentarily, his smile turning genuine.

The unexpected turn pulls at the sides of Alastor’s own mouth, threatening to betray him by doing the same.

Lucifer saves him, ruining the moment by flicking the end of Alastor’s nose.

“Use whatever means you have to your advantage,” Lucifer laughs as he’s unceremoniously flung into the air, using the momentum to fly in a vertical loop before continuing, “No matter your opponent.”

Alastor sends out another attack of tentacles half-heartedly, buying himself time as he desperately tries to figure out how the fuck he can outsmart the devil himself. Lucifer, naturally, dodges every one of his attacks without even breaking a sweat, using all six of his wings to make each swoop and dive appear effortless.

Making it more and more obvious to Alastor that he’s being toyed with.

Even more so than he had a month prior.

Which just won’t do.

With the odds stacked against him, it’s odd that Alastor’s moment of clarity hits him now. He continues using his tentacles to keep Lucifer occupied while gathering his thoughts, realising he’s been handed the answers on a silver platter.

He just needs the gumption to set up the long game.

Alastor keeps his face neutral as he directs the fight back toward him, inching closer while folding both hands behind his back.

Hiding the movement of his fingers and the opening of a shadowy portal out of Lucifer’s sight.

“So what you’re saying is-” Alastor keeps his tone level, not wanting to alert Lucifer to anything suspicious as his doppelganger materialises out of the void, “I should debase myself with dirty tactics, even if they’re degrading?”

“Oh, especially if they are,” Lucifer replies, hovering a few feet away while dodging the steadily decreasing attacks, “Getting off that high horse won’t actually kill you, Alastor.”

“Noted.”

Alastor’s smile widens significantly as his shadow sneaks up to the King completely unnoticed, successfully stealing his cane. The yelp of surprise is a symphony to his ears, even more so when it’s accompanied by an excited static chitter and the sound of the tacky cane being thrown through the air.

Lucifer yelps again, murmuring something Alastor doesn’t catch as he turns to watch the cane landing in the swamp. He doesn’t need the specifics, not when it’s whiny enough for him to know he’s won this round. His chest puffs as he turns around, letting out the most satisfied sigh as he prepares to gloat.

Only to have his words stolen by the ludicrous display in front of him.

His shadow has followed his instructions so far as to grab Lucifer from behind, but their entanglement is nothing short of an embrace. One of the dark figure’s arms is wrapped around that thin waist, holding him in place while the other hand is caressing his face. Alastor can feel what he’s doing through their link. Feel the softness that’s haunted his lonely nights as his shadow loosens the King’s bowtie, granting him access to more of that alabaster skin.

To make matters worse, Lucifer seems positively thrilled by the turn of events. He’s not so much struggling as he is writhing in the phantom gasp, giggling in pure glee when he catches Alastor’s furious glare.

“I like your little friend,” Lucifer gasps, eyes rolling as the shadow licks up his neck, “Is he single?”

Alastor’s eyes widen in disbelief as this scene continues. His shadow’s hands explore that lithe body without restraint, caressing and kissing where Alastor had hesitated to earlier. And he can feel everything. Even muted, there’s no mistaking the heat against the fingers dipping into the King’s waistband and the taste of salt as his its tongue slides across Lucifer’s pulse point.

He’s almost mustered the will to answer the King’s inane question when the absolute fiend slips his fingers into Lucifer’s central wings, caressing the feathers between its shadowy digits.

When Lucifer’s whole body locks up and the neediest of whimpers escapes his lips, Alastor’s temper flares so much he’s surprised steam doesn’t escape through his ears.

“That this is merely an extension of my will, Sire.” Alastor growls, unable to stop his lip from twitching upwards as the shadow’s fuzzy mouth moves to the back of Lucifer’s neck, “It’s captured you on my instruction. And-”

Apparently, a lack of teeth has no bearing on his shadow’s ability to make Lucifer moan when it closes its mouth around the King’s nape and sucks. Hard.

The sensation on his tongue and the sounds send a dual jolt of arousal and fury down Alastor’s spine. His hands clench, eyes turning into dials as he uses his connection to the shadow to remind him who controls its miserable existence..

The shadow bristles, letting Lucifer go gently before retreating to Alastor’s side, chittering an apology he chooses to ignore so he can address the bemused being in front of him.

The temporarily disarmed being, he thinks, which perks the shadow up to no end.

“To answer your question, Sire.” Alastor clicks his fingers as his shadow drapes itself over his shoulder, “He’s not something that possesses free will, I’m afraid.”

Lucifer, to his credit, shakes himself out of the daze in record time, “Same question stands.”

This time it’s Alastor who's pretty sure he can feel the touch of static over every inch of his skin.

Lucifer stretches his arms over his head, shivering a final time before he’s back in the air with the same wild look Alastor’s sure is reflected in his own face. His bubbling rage shifts, widening his smile painfully wide as he and his shadow share a knowing look before turning their attention to temptation incarnate.

Alastor chuckles to himself, his tentacles reappearing behind the King as his shadow crawls across the floor, “Depends who's asking!”

Once again, he launches an attack that’s barely thought through. Again, Lucifer evades him at every turn.

And sees right through him.

“Nice try, Al.” Lucifer taunts, easily evading every tentacle, even going so far as to ruffle the shadow’s ears the second it gets close, “You know, I’m starting to think you’re stalling.”

He flies higher, looking down at Alastor with a smug grin, “You’re certainly losing your touch.”

The weight of those words hit Alastor harder than the blows he keeps missing. Even as he throws everything he has at Lucifer, he knows it’s all for naught.

But it’s all he has.

Or... he thinks as the lightbulb he’d neglected to acknowledge goes off in his head, all he has that won’t cause permanent damage.

With the odds so firmly stacked against him and his rapidly dwindling temper, he’s no longer sure he can keep to his previous morals.

Even if Charlotte would kill him herself if she found out he’d put her father through something like that again, it’s a risk he’s prepared to take.

Because she won’t find out. No one will.

“You can do better than this, Alastor.” Lucifer continues as Alastor opens the final portal behind him, directing all but two tentacles towards the void, “Impress me.”

Alastor doesn’t hide his green glow, twisting his hand in the air as his tentacles wrap around a dozen angelic axes, “Careful what you wish for.”

He sends all four of them in Lucifer’s direction, flanking him with two axes on either side as the remaining tentacles go for his legs. The King slips through the attempts at restraint with ease, only to yelp as one of the axes swings a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Lucifer’s eyes snap to him, almost looking like he’s about to speak, but Alastor doesn’t relent.

In less than a second, he’s at Lucifer’s side, adding his microphone to the fray of things to dodge as tendrils sprout out of his back, keeping him in the air.

Unlike his earlier attempts, he’s now planning things in advance. As soon as Lucifer dodges one attack, there’s another axe waiting for him, each swing coming closer than the last.

The margins narrow to next to nothing, spurring Alastor to direct his shadow behind the King so they can flank him from both sides. He grabs the axe from the nearest tentacle, clipping Lucifer’s legs as his shadow grabs him by the waist, holding him still as Alastor aims the axe at his face.

Slicing the thinnest line down his cheek.

“Fuck!”

It’s hardly a scratch, but the smell of blood fills the air, tickling his taste buds with the promise of what’s to come.

Alastor glares at his shadow over Lucifer’s shoulder, considering aiming the axe at it next. He’d aimed to cut deeper, to leave a mark harder to heal, but the damned thing decided to pull Lucifer flush against him at the last second, lessening the blow.

Because he doesn’t want to actually hurt-

Static buzzing around Alastor, the air around him glitches as he raises his axe again, intent on using what little advantage he has to rid himself of such ridiculous notions. Several rivulets of black drool drip down his chin as his vision takes a similar inky hue, the only thing he can focus on being the creature of pure light he’s about to end.

His shadow betrays him again, disappearing, letting Lucifer escape at the last second to spin in the opposite direction unscathed.

Even if a drop of his blood hits Alastor’s cheek as they pass each other, it’s not nearly enough of a triumph to sate his hunger.

But the sight of Lucifer wiping his cheek only to see the wound doesn’t instantly heal certainly does something to his rapidly fracturing psyche.

“Angelic weaponry, huh?” Lucifer pants, dodging another attack despite his wide-eyed expression, “How did you even get a hold of something like these?”

“Your kind is careless, Sire,” Alastor responds, though his words are heavily distorted with radio feedback, “And unaware their own arsenal will be their demise.”

There’s no mistaking the flicker of fear and something he can’t place in the King’s face, even if it’s quickly obscured by him dodging several more attacks.

It’s that same expression Alastor had caught a glimpse of that night on the balcony, but even more intense.

Doing the same things to his body as the cravings of seeing the King underneath him return with a vengeance.

Tearing him apart in whatever way he can.

“Wow, you may actually stand a chance.”

Lucifer’s far too calm tone snaps Alastor’s full attention back to him. He passes the axe in his hand back to one of his tentacles, sending all four after the King, certain it’s only a matter of time before he catches Lucifer off guard.

And yet he somehow manages to evade him at every turn.

“Or,” Lucifer ducks the axe above his head, tucking his legs into his chest and streamlining his wings to avoid the other three, “You would.” He flattens out, flying through the air like a torpedo when all four flick around to trap him in an impossibly small space, “If you could aim right.”

Alastor can’t control the growl of pure, animalistic bloodlust as Lucifer laughs at him from above.

Maybe it's the blinding rage, maybe it’s his body betraying him, maybe it's the promise of blood on his tongue.

Either way, Alastor’s self-control finally snaps.

From there he moves like a man possessed. He puts everything he has into setting up every attack, laser-focused on being several steps ahead and never being predictable. His head grows heavy with rapidly growing antlers, vision tinting red as the strain calls on more demonic powers than he has any right to possess.

Ones he knows he will pay the price for later, but right now he couldn’t care less.

All for the taste of victory while his very sanity frays at the seams.

Alastor’s attacks increase in speed as they near the edge of the clearing, the line of trees providing him an unexpected advantage.

It takes a few moments of seemingly random attacks, each one gently steering Lucifer where he wants him until he’s ready to exact his plan.

Until Lucifer’s means of escaping dwindle as he’s backed up against an ancient willow.

The expanse of its trunk is at least several times the width of The King’s thin frame, even ten feet in the air.

Meaning it’s more than adequate for the move Alastor has planned.

This time Alastor forgoes his treasonous doppelganger, snapping two of his tentacles around the back of the tree, wrapping around Lucifer’s waist and pinning him there as two axes block his path from above, the third planting itself into the bark just underneath his feet.

Allowing him to retrieve the final axe, swinging it around to hold it at the base of the King’s throat.

Yes.

Time slows to a crawl as Lucifer swallows shakily, the slight movement causing the blade to catch on his porcelain skin. The line of gold is thinner than the one on his cheek, but it calls Alastor to it like a siren song, muddling his already distorted thoughts.

He licks his lips instinctively, shuddering when he feels Lucifer struggling against his binds.

“Not so confident now, are you?” Alastor’s vision blurs with static at the edges as his tentacles bring him close enough to pick up on the intoxicating mix of sweat and blood, “My King.”

Lucifer’s eyes snap to his, blown out and panicked. Somehow more vulnerable than when he’d had him over that damned railing with his teeth primed at the King’s neck.

And it’s the most alluring sight Alastor’s ever seen.

"Yeah, ok.” Lucifer gasps as the tendril around his waist tightens, his face flushing the same colour as his cheeks, “You got me this time."

Yes!

“Is that so?” Alastor chuckles, feeling some of his baser instincts stirring as he hones in on the glittering droplets falling onto the axe, “Are you telling me this is all it takes to defeat you, The Devil himself? The literal King of this miserable place?”

Lucifer choosing that moment to laugh in a polyphonic voice chills him to his core.

“C’mon Al.” He looks Alastor in the eye, challenging him as he arches against his bonds, making him feel how the tentacles strain to keep their grip around his thin waist, “Are you really going to waste time asking questions?”

Whatever retort Alastor has dies on his lips when Lucifer slowly moves his head away from the tree, never breaking eye contact as the axe presses further into his skin.

“Or,” Lucifer dips his fingers into the wound before bringing his fingers to his lips, smearing them with his own blood, “Are you gonna claim your reward?”

Yes!

Alastor hardly registers the sound of his microphone clattering to the ground, not over the feral beast buried just beneath the surface screaming at him to feed. The sound of bone splintering fills the air as his teeth elongate and his mouth waters, his rapidly blurring vision fixating on Lucifer’s glistening lower lip.

Calling him to do exactly what’s finally being presented to him on a silver platter.

So much so that he doesn’t hear the alarm bells ringing over his heavily laboured breathing until cool steel presses into his throat.

What.

“You should know better than to let your guard down, Alastor,” Lucifer taunts, eyes glowing red as the axe previously pressed into his pale skin is now somehow in his grasp and pointing directly over Alastor’s windpipe, “That's lesson three.”

Any semblance of control Alastor had cobbled together rapidly crumbles as he realises how massively he’s fucked up.

He attempts to retreat up only to find another axe out of his possession, pointed to the back of his neck.

Slicing him just below his hairline, sending a jolt of white-hot pain down his spine.

Lucifer laughs at his struggle, moving closer when the tentacles around his waist drop, horns appearing and growing as rapidly as his sinister smile, easily regaining any lost ground while Alastor scrambles to pull himself together.

A fruitless endeavour when the pain mixed with seeing this side of Lucifer is making him ache with need.

Alastor panics.

“Was this your plan all along, hmm?” He tries to smile just as wide, ignoring the strain in his already-horse voice, “To toy with me until you found the perfect opportunity to make me drop my guard? And you call me tacky!”

He chokes out a forced laugh, the movement pressing both axes into his skin and morphing it into a hitch of breath.

One that Lucifer doesn’t miss if that lick of his teeth is anything to go by.

“So this is what it comes down to!”

Alastor tries to call on something, anything to save him but to no avail.

The axes inch closer, biting at his skin, confusing his senses as he senses the final curtain drawing to a close.

His mouth twitches as he attempts to stare down his maker, his ever-present smile threatening to drop at any second.

But like hell will he let it end like this.

“If you want to kill me, Lucifer,” Alastor hisses, spitting black blood over his chin as he braces himself for the final blow, “Then get it over with.”

It feels like an age passes, but in reality, it’s scarcely more than a few seconds before Lucifer blinks rapidly, his pupils returning to normal while his brow furrows in utter confusion.

Just as quickly as they’d appeared at his neck, the axes return to his tentacles. Alastor wavers in the tendrils supporting him, dropping a few feet while his head spins.

When he looks up, Lucifer is entirely back to his normal form, regarding him with little more than passing amusement.

“Oh come on, Al,” He laughs, wings fluttering excitedly as he twirls around in the air, “Are you really giving up so easily?”

Alastor stares up at him, just as dumbfounded at the switch as he is at his own willingness to continue. As Lucifer touches his blood-covered lips, cleaning his fingers with a teasing swipe of his tongue, Alastor’s resolve to wipe that smug look off his face builds until it’s the only thing he can think of.

Lucifer winks before flying off and yelling back over his shoulder, “Catch me if you can!”

And he will, even if it costs him everything.

Several portals open around the grassy plains as Alastor runs forward, grabbing his microphone as he calls upon every eldritch horror at his disposal. The sky darkness, his sigils morphing the very fabric of reality as he chases Lucifer across the sky.

There’s fatigue creeping into Alastor’s bones by the time he catches up with Lucifer, the strain of his power being pushed to its limits wearing him down at record speed. It’s easily ignored in favour of the adrenaline in his blood, and the promise he’s making to himself about holding nothing back when the King finally makes a wrong move.

All that considered, he’s able to exact remarkably precise swings of his microphone, even managing to clip Lucifer’s legs a few times as the agile King twirls around him in the air. With his powers pushed to their limits though, some things start to lapse. The shadow that he’d banished to the sidelines creeps around his neck, following him around like a lost puppy while chittering excitedly.

Alastor does his best to ignore him, intent on teaching that fragment of his soul a severe lesson if he manages to make it out of this alive. But it’s insistant on getting his attention, even going so far as to brush its staticy hands over the still weeping gash on the back of his neck.

He sends the axes after Lucifer before turning to the shadow, grabbing it by its neck while his eyes flicker to the same darkness it’s made of.

What?!

W̵̢̺ͮ͝͞ḭ̮̦̯͈͈͙̠̉̓́ń̵̡͕̟gs.

It takes a few seconds of processing and receiving his Shadow’s intentions before the realisation hits Alastor like a brick to the face.

Of course.

They’ve been fighting for close to an hour by his estimation, and yet he’s missed every opportunity to go for the massive moving targets that could have secured his victory from the start. It’s confirmed when the shadow feeds him more information about the King’s reaction to its touch, letting him know Lucifer is far more sensitive there than he’s letting on.

And why didn’t you inform me sooner?

The shadow’s lids lower, its own smile turning thin.

Saying far more by reflecting one of Alastor’s favoured expressions back to him than its limited communication could ever allow.

Alastor’s pretty sure he’s never felt more dimwitted in his entire existence.

He pushes that feeling down, letting his shadow go as he spins around to direct the axes in another series of attacks, buying him more time as he comes up with a way to act on that delayed knowledge as soon as possible.

Damaging Lucifer’s wings would be the simplest road. To aim the axes at his back, sever them at the source. But there’s no guarantee how quickly the King would heal from such a wound, even if he’s managed to do so before.

And, despite his still lingering bloodlust, Alastor knows it’s several steps too far.

Not to mention that incapacitating their strongest ally on the eve of battle is insanely foolish, even for him.

But he thinks as one of his tentacles manages to slide against the feathers of Lucifer’s bottom wings, they can just as easily be bound.

Binding them would do just as good a job at preventing Lucifer from flying away. Alastor could easily pull him down to the ground and push him into the dirt. It would restrict his movements, have him squirming to try and break free while Alastor finds out just how intense that sensitivity really is.

The mental image alone is more than enough for him to make up his mind.

Alastor springs into action, using the tendrils on his back to bring him into the air while sending his shadow towards the ones wielding the axes. He pulls Lucifer’s focus to him, keeping the King dodging the attacks from his microphone as he frees up the tendrils for something he should have attempted at the start of this fight.

At first, Lucifer is guarded, not quite coming close enough for him to be able to enact his plan.

So Alastor lets him think he’s on his last leg.

Which, in all honesty, isn’t that far from the truth.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” He yells, hitting Lucifer’s side with an erratic swipe, making him far too vulnerable, “Now I’ll stop at nothing to see you suffer.”

“That’s pretty big talk, Al.” Lucifer, expectedly, knees him in the stomach, “Or maybe you’re more of a glutton for punishment than I- hrk!"

Jackpot.

“You know-

Alastor sends several more tentacles toward Lucifer’s wings, each one hitting their target easier than the last as Lucifer all but moans at the sudden onslaught.

“-You should really take your own advice about letting your guard down-”

He brings them both down to the ground as the tendrils split, weaving through every crevice of Lucifer’s wings, tying themselves around each other in a web of knots, preventing any chance of escape.

“-I would think a being such as yourself wouldn’t forget their own vulnerabilities this easily, leaving them open to attack.”

Lucifer hits the ground with a thud, landing on his knees gasping for breath as the tentacles continue to wrap around the rest of his body.

It’s more than enough to restrain him, but this wound up, Alastor’s not doing anything by halves anymore.

He directs the eldritch horrors to pull Lucifer’s wings toward his body, to bind them to his arms and back, restricting his movement further with each knot. The tentacles cloak Lucifer in black, forming intricate bindings resembling something that Alastor would usually pretend he knows nothing about.

But as he uses the one around the King’s neck to raise his head, losing himself momentarily in that glazed-over expression, he can’t help feeling he’s missed his calling by being born too far away from the infamous rope artists.

“Isn’t that right-” Alastor walks towards him slowly to admire his handiwork, instructing the bindings to tighten when he reaches out to cup Lucifer’s face, “-Sire.”

The sound that escapes those plump lips in response is little more than a whisper, and yet it says so much. Even without that, the fact Lucifer is flushed from his forehead to his pulled-open shirt tells him everything he needs to know.

Alastor holds him firm as he directs his bindings to move, to seek out every last sensitive spot, to confirm what he already knows. Within seconds Lucifer starts squirming in his grasp, his breath coming out in heavy pants as the tentacles caress every inch of his sensitive plumage.

The second whines start spilling from his throat, when the King looks up at Alastor with parted lips and begging eyes, he knows he’s finally won the battle of more than just wits.

And yet, he doesn’t stop.

The exploration starts slowly, with Alastor’s own eyes becoming heavy as he surrenders himself to the sensations of his unnatural link. As well as threading himself through Lucifer’s feathers, he starts exploring the rest of his body with the tentacles he’d previously used to hold himself in the air.

Physically connected through his back,, the sensations are far stronger as they slip underneath Lucifer’s shirt to caress his heaving chest. The reaction is instant, and this close Alastor takes in every detail of Lucifer’s eyes slipping shut and his bottom lip rolling between his teeth. He directs another up the King’s leg, squeezing his reddened cheeks to stop Lucifer from muffling his noises the second he feels that familiar heat radiating from his core.

It’s strange how similar it feels to trace the tentacle up Lucifer’s concealed length as it did when it was his finger, with Alastor barely able to contain his own noises as Lucifer’s whole body shudders with a deep-seated moan.

Again, he’s struck with how famished he is after that fight. And how little he cares to deny himself what he’s been craving for so many sleepless nights any longer.

He runs his thumb over the King’s lips, tracing the curve, feedback buzzing uncontrollably when he catches on what seems to be the remnant of a split.

Just like one he’d given him at their last encounter.

Its positioning is too perfectly matched, and yet the idea Lucifer had left himself unhealed for so long seems completely ludicrous.

Then their eyes meet again, Alastor sees the uninhibited desire swimming in those deep pools, and it no longer seems like a fabrication of his mind.

Everything is screaming at him to give in, to break that last barrier between them again and give them both the relief they’re so desperately seeking.

And he almost does. Alastor’s head dips lower when Lucifer’s eyes glisten with tears and the softest of whimpers spill from the lips he’s still toying with.

But there’s a small warning in the back of his head he can’t quite ignore.

A remnant of their last time together.

The memory of the humiliation and the unresolved desires Lucifer left lingering in his veins, refusing to release their hold.

He won’t be letting that happen again.

“I know you can escape at any time,” Alastor says, tone far colder than the inferno threatening to burn him from the inside out, “But you no longer want to, do you?”

Lucifer chokes on air as the tentacles binding his wings tighten and slither against his silken feathers, burying any attempts at denial under several breathless moans.

“I- Fuck,” Lucifer cuts himself off with a whine when a tendril starts toying with his waistband, “They’re even better than I imagined- shit”

Alastor uses his foot to separate the King’s knees, widening his stance, “How the mighty have fallen.”

He directs the tentacle to take its time, to keep teasing lower, but never quite giving him what he wants. He begins trailing his fingers around Lucifer’s face, delicately grazing his skin, adding to the soft torture by making the King chase the touch he’s blatantly starved for.

Despite this not being his initial intention, Alastor is utterly fascinated.

It quickly becomes another form of dance, with Lucifer following his fingers around his face like one would follow the leading partner. He whines softly when he’s given any hint of a stronger touch from Alastor, and pants when his bounds find another sensitive spot to exploit.

Then practically cries when fingers are pushed into his willing mouth.

“My, my,” Alastor hums, hiding the cracks in his own voice when a moan vibrates through his fingers, “Are you enjoying yourself this much, Sire?”

Lucifer nods, but he’s hardly there anymore. His whole body shakes as he acts on instinct, suckling the digits and rolling his tongue around in a desperate attempt to please. Alastor does his best to stay focused, letting Lucifer indulge for a few moments more before the suckling starts becoming far too reminiscent of their previous encounter.

Alastor pulls away, stilling every bit of stimulation as Lucifer whimpers at the loss.

Unable to hide his own choked noise when he’s treated to a look of pure lust.

Lucifer's all shivering limbs, a parted mouth, and softly lidded eyes. For a moment he looks at Alastor with pure reverence, like he’s the only thing he’ll ever need. It has Alastor in a chokehold, making him want to do nothing but join the King in the dirt, before it morphs into something more familiar.

Where Lucifer reminds him just who brought the first sin upon mankind.

“I’m sure the answer is obvious,” he arches his body upwards, letting Alastor drink in more of his bound form, “Fancy taking me up on that other offer now?”

“Perhaps,” Alastor grips Lucifer’s chin again, making sure the King’s looking right into his eyes, “But you’d be remiss to think I’ll be repeating my previous mistakes.”

And with that, the tentacle dips into Lucifer’s waistband.

“What- nggh-” Lucifer shudders as it slips down the crease of his thigh, brushing past his throbbing length towards the seam of his crotch, “What do you mean?”

Alastor lets his widening smile talk for him as more tentacles join the one in Lucifer’s pants. They weave their way around the King, tearing the fabric clean off him while wrapping themselves around more of his body.

There’s no protesting, not when Lucifer can hardly speak from the pleasurable sensations Alastor can feel from the bumps on his skin and the temperature reaching fever-pitch

“I won’t be played for a fool again, Lucifer,” Alastor stands to his full height, tucking his hands behind his back as Lucifer’s stripped of every last scrap, exposing every inch of his slight form, “I’m aware I shouldn’t dream to make any demands on the King of Hell and yet-”

He finally directs the tentacles to explore Lucifer’s body as they wish while ignoring the fresh line of black drool dripping down his chin.

“-Your evening hinges on my goodwill-” He licks his teeth as his fingers twitch behind his back, “-and what I have to offer.”

Lucifer whimpers at the suggestion, expectedly, but then his attention is quickly pulled elsewhere.

With his mental energy spent on keeping himself in check as well as directing Lucifer’s restraints, the resurfacing of his shadow behind the King’s writhing form is a surprising one.

He considers dismissing it back to the void but hesitates upon seeing how hungrily it’s eyeing up the King’s bound form.

Making his own arousal throb with the possibility of finally having an outlet.

Begrudgingly, Alastor directs his shadow to come closer. To tease Lucifer with the contact he won’t allow himself until they come to an agreement.

That first touch of shadowy palms has Lucifer moaning like a whore and Alastor’s fingertips tingling with the phantom sensations he’s craving.

A little more he reassures himself, digging his fingers into his palm to keep him focused on his task.

“I-oh-” Lucifer arches back as shadowy hands caress his chest, focusing on the pink nubs that seem just as sensitive as his wings, “I’m- ah, I’m listening.”

“Tell me how much you want this,” Alastor comes close again, leaning down until he can see the tears pearling on Lucifer’s eyelashes, “How much you’re aching to give up your throne for a firm hand around your neck.”

“How dare you-” Lucifer’s eyes flash red as he slips into his demonic form, horns, and tail manifesting out of thin air, “You know I could kill you where you stand for even suggesting that.”

Alastor can’t help but chuckle at the sight, and how willingly the King has walked into his trap.

“And yet, here I stand-”

He clicks his teeth, closing the already small gap until he’s less than an inch above Lucifer’s face.

“-Unharmed-”

He directs the tentacle around the King’s neck to lessen, staying true to his word by replacing it with his hand.

“-Which says a lot-”

He tightens his hold rapidly, savouring the shallow breaths tickling his cheeks.

“-Doesn’t it-”

He digs the tip of his claw into the still seeping axe-wound, filling the air with the smell of fresh blood.

“Lucifer.”

The King’s eyes burn with the intensity of a thousand suns while a flurry of emotions pass over his flushed features. His tail thrashes on the floor, somewhere between excited and agitated, making Alastor’s own pulse quicken as he thinks of all the different ways to restrict the appendage, quickly filing them away for later.

Because Alastor knows he’s won even before he plays his final hand.

He has Lucifer right where he wants him. A literal captive audience.

And he’s not done yet.

“All I’m asking is for you to submit to my whims for the evening. Fully. Willingly.-” He moves towards Lucifer’s ear while directing his shadow to lick up the opposing side of his neck, “If you’re intent on denying yourself what you want, I’ll leave right now. We can forget everything and never speak of either of our encounters ever again.”

It’s the gamble he’s been setting up. The one that he knows Lucifer won’t refuse but that still makes his pace quicken at the thought of all this being taken away in the blink of an eye.

He clicks his fingers, the shadow disappears, and the tentacles around him become lax.

Lucifer whines at the loss as the hand around his throat pulls his head to the side, bringing him back to his eyeline.

“Or you could agree to my terms,” Alastor relaxes his hand, sliding it around Lucifer’s trembling neck to the back of his skull, threading his fingers through his hair, “And I'll fuck you senseless.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen further than Alastor’s ever seen them, his features softening as the golden orbs shimmer with a wonder he’s never seen in the ancient being before.

It hits him that he’s no longer looking upon the face of the King of Hell, but that this expression is owned solely by the angel he once was.

Of the misunderstood dreamer who risked everything for the chance to be free.

Alastor’s hand instinctively tightens, the tug on an already oversensitive system breaking the spell on them both.

Lucifer’s whole body melts between his restraints and Alastor’s hold, moaning loudly while he crumbles in record time.

“Oh, fuck,” Lucifer gasps as fresh tears fall down his cheeks, “Yes, Alastor. Please. I’ll do what you ask, just, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Splendid.”

Static buzzes around Alastor as he flicks his spare hand, directing his tentacles to resume their previous writhing as they rewrap themselves around the King’s writhing form. Lucifer goes limp against them when he lets him go, the handing over of his reigns visible enough in the way he just surrenders himself to the writhing mass crawling over his body.

Alastor straightens himself back to his full height and turns away from the obscene display scene unfolding before him.

Buying himself the space he needs to come back from the brink as he places his microphone on the ground.

Alastor hums to himself while removing his jacket, the sound only just masking Lucifer’s moan of relief. The volume is to be expected considering he’s finally letting one of his eldritch appendages wrap around the King’s already leaking cock, but it’s the pitch, the sheer neediness of the sound that makes Alastor’s lip twitch.

How he can’t wait to hear those sounds against his skin, to feel the King come undone under his grasp.

It’s maddening how much he wants this, but still, he keeps up the act.

Alastor gently places his folded coat on the ground next to his microphone, making sure a particular pocket is facing upward for easy access before turning his attention back to his entertainment for the night.

To the sublime being under his complete control.

No longer resisting, Alastor lets his eyes glow green as he moves a hand to his own crotch. He hisses through his teeth as Lucifer watches him with hazy eyes, stroking himself through his pants firmly when one of his tentacles shoves itself into the King’s mouth.

Alastor pushes up his sleeves as he moves back towards the writhing mess, buttoning them by his elbows as he sinks to his knees.

“Shall we begin?”

Chapter Text

When considering prime cuts of meat, selections from the thigh are usually overlooked.

It’s mostly due to the functionality of the upper leg supporting the majority of an animal’s weight. Double so if they’re bipedal. The muscle-filled appendages are tough, often needing several hours to tenderise the meat so it falls off the bone.

Alastor knows this. Far better than most.

It doesn’t stop him from throwing that entire notion out the window when he sinks his teeth into the pillowy soft skin of Lucifer’s inner thigh.

Yesssss

The taste he’s been missing for what feels like an age hits his tongue, the liquid somehow even sweeter than he remembers as it blooms against his taste buds.

He assumes it’s due, in part, to how much more this victory feels earned.

It’s also likely because he’s taken his time to get to this point, teasing his captive to the point of delirium.

Lucifer’s flesh yields to him so easily in this position, further cementing his opinions about this being the perfect place to bite down to his shrivelled heart’s content. While he supposes the amount of attention he’s been lavishing on that area with his tongue could count as its own form of tenderising, Lucifer’s yelp of pain tells him he could have tormented him even longer.

Ignored his needy whines for longer to lick the salt from every inch of the King’s trembling skin.

“Ah, fuck!,” Lucifer cries as he bites down harder, continuing to ghost sharp claws down his torso before digging in just below his pectorals, “Al, that’s- that’s- so good.”

Alastor’s chuckle is muffled by the mouthful of flesh, already giddy from the intoxicating effects of the angelic delicacy spread out before him.

One he wants to take his time in consuming, piece by trembling piece.

There’s another pained groan when he removes his teeth from Lucifer’s thigh, which morphs into a shocked gasp when he closes his mouth around the same area.

Sucking hard enough to bruise.

He doesn’t care that the mark will fade almost instantly. That the rags littering the floor around them will snap back into a pristine white suit after they’re done. He doesn’t even care that the glorious wings his tentacles are currently writhing all over will be smoothed down as good as new when Lucifer returns to his senses.

Because Lucifer can’t take back the sounds he makes as he succumbs to Alastor’s will.

Even with his head positively swimming from the liquid gold flooding his mouth, Alastor can’t help but marvel at just how responsive Lucifer is already. Their fight hasn’t left the King as unscathed as he’d previously let on, his body too sensitive to every little touch of Alastor’s fingers.

And tongue.

Not to mention, how remarkable his lung capacity is for someone in such a contorted position.

Lucifer is currently balanced on his shoulders, legs pinned to either side of his head by writhing tentacles while several more have his wings now bound to the floor. His arms are in a similar state, bound above his head, stretching them just a little too far as the tentacles writhe and kiss at his bare skin.

He’s bound in just as intricate a web as when he’d finally been defeated, making sure there’s no chance of escape.

Or no will too, either. Not with the way Alastor has instructed his eldritch extensions to tease every inch of that sensitive wingspan.

Laid out like this, he reminds Alastor of a butterfly spread out in front of a collector’s microscope. Analysed for its beauty alone while a benevolent god spears pins through his delicate frame.

It’s a thought so tempting that it inspires Alastor to take a metaphorical step back from where he’s kneeling over the King’s prone form. He continues that barely-there touch, teasing the skin that bristles underneath his fingertips. Lucifer babbles something incoherent, shivering at the torture while his body desperately cries out for more. Even the tail that Alastor had to deploy two tendrils to bind effectively is thrashing wildly against the floor, its tip beating erratically against the dirt.

The demand is insistent, even if Lucifer has yet to give in and beg for it verbally.

Which is just as well.

Alastor’s in no mood to escalate anything in a hurry.

In fact, he’d even go so far as to say that the vision of Lucifer; bound, pliant and fully submitting to him, is quite possibly his favourite yet.

Well he thinks as flashes of the King’s teasing wink coupled with the memory of those soft lips wrapped around the head of cock flood his mind, it’s a strong contender at the very least.

It feels like several weeks’ worth of tension lifts from Alastor’s shoulders as he continues to caress the heavily goose-pimpled skin, bringing his tongue back to the fray by trailing it down from the bite mark towards the heat of Lucifer’s core.

The reaction is instant. The faint tease of Alastor getting closer to where Lucifer is red, pulsing, and steadily dripping onto his own chest causes his entire body to tense up, winding him tighter than a bowstring.

When Alastor skirts over his cock with little more than a heavy exhale of hot breath, Lucifer lets out a wail worthy of splitting the heavens above them.

And wouldn’t that be a sight, Alastor thinks wickedly as he brands the skin of Lucifer’s other thigh with scolding kisses, for those above to witness the one they cast out being taken apart by a mere mortal soul?

Alastor shifts on his knees, suddenly and painfully aware of his own arousal throbbing in the confines of his pants. His pressing need is getting more difficult to ignore, with every instinct in his body urging him to claim the spoils of his victory as soon as possible. Even if he knows it’s worth the wait. Even if he knows that hearing the King screaming his name over and over as he renders him boneless by fucking into that tight heat…

… On second thought, it’s high time to reveal his trump card.

“You’re shivering,” Alastor murmurs between nips of the skin dangerously close to the swell of Lucifer’s ass, “My dear, we’ve barely even started.”

It's hard to tell if it’s the term of endearment or the attention so close to where he needs it, but Lucifer’s noises instantly shift up an octave.

“Of course I am? I- shit” He chokes on air as Alastor brings his hands around the top of Lucifer’s thighs, digging in his claws as his mouth veers back towards his core, “Who in the seven hells taught you how to fucking- ah, ah, ah!”

The moan is just as heavenly as the convulsions wracking Lucifer’s entire body as Alastor unfurls the full length of his tongue to lick a long stripe from the base of Lucifer’s cock back towards his already clenching hole. It’s an anticipated response, one that has Alastor using the grip he has on those plush thighs to steady the King as he pays particular attention to the sensitive skin sack around his testicles.

A little more than he initially plans to, actually. Especially when the whim to take one of the delicate globes into his mouth strikes before he can catch it.

The howl in return is worth its weight in gold.

Still, his attention only wavers momentarily. The original design of teasing Lucifer’s heated skin with heavy breaths works wonders around the areas he’s dampened with his tongue, turning the King into a whimpering puddle before finally hitting him with the question that’s been itching to escape all evening.

Or, more accurately, since he put some serious thought into how to gain the upper hand in the inevitable encore of that fateful night.

“Tell me, Lucifer-” Alastor purrs, letting himself enjoy the way a name that so many souls fear rolls off his tongue so smoothly, “Have you prepared yourself in a similar manner as our last encounter?”

He knows the answer.

He can tell with the lack of slickness coating the puckered hole just below his more than willing tongue. It’s what he’s been banking on for his mind-fuck to work, in fact, but it’s more than that.

It’s an oddly endearing confirmation that Lucifer’s intentions really were geared toward helping him before whatever animal instincts they trigger in each other become too explosive to ignore.

Alastor’s still going to make him confirm the answer though.

“I- uh- no?” Lucifer answers when the silence becomes too heavy, “I didn’t want to assume, I didn’t-” he stutters, the flash of vulnerability painfully obvious even when his face is currently obscured from view, “If you want me to, I can-”

“No need.”

Alastor lets go of one of Lucifer’s legs, hand searching for the stage prop hidden in his coat. He shoves it forward, taking the hitch of breath as confirmation that he’s got Lucifer’s attention as his long fingers slip into his pocket to retrieve the thin vial of oil he’s had on his person since their last encounter.

The pure shock followed by raw desire that warps Lucifer’s noises is worth all the discomfort he’s experienced in the past month every time he was reminded of the dirty little secret in his breast pocket.

For exactly this purpose.

He opens the vial, sheathing two of the claws on his left hand before coating them liberally with the liquid, nostrils flaring at the subtle but entirely pleasant scent of coconuts.

He’d had his pick of illicit substances when he’d slipped into his fellow hotel resident’s room unnoticed, and he’s more than pleased that he’d forgone the flashier brands for something more refined in appearance.

Especially since his mouth is already watering at the idea of tasting that mixed with the sweetness of that soft skin.

“What?!” Lucifer eventually says, his voice strained as tentacles pull his thighs even further apart, “-Did you- you had that in your fucking coat this whole time?”

Alastor ignores him for now, focusing on making sure his fingers are fully coated before passing the vial to his spare hand.

And instinctually licks his lips.

“I thought you didn’t usually do anything like-” Lucifer cuts himself off with another choked moan when Alastor pours more of the oil directly on his puckered hole, “Fucking hell!.”

The irony of the exclamation isn’t lost on Alastor as he replaces the vial with his fingers, his touch bordering on rough as he spreads the lubricant generously, shivering himself when Lucifer’s flesh starts yielding to his exploratory touch.

Unable to resist anymore, he moves his head around Lucifer’s thigh, needing to see the look on the King’s face as he continues his torment.

He’d painted quite the pretty picture in his mind, but it’s nothing compared to seeing his wild and flushed expression in exquisite detail. Lucifer’s already covered in a mix of tears, drool, and a single drop of precum on his flushed cheek. He catches Alastor’s gaze, eyes going wide as the tips of his fingers catch on his entrance.

The King is ruined before they’ve even properly begun, and it’s captivating.

“Being prepared is lesson one, correct?” Alastor presses himself closer, resting his cheek on the outside of a quivering thigh, “Try to keep up, Lucifer.”

The front-row seat he has to the litany of emotions that dance over those angelic features stirs things inside him that he can’t comprehend. Especially when the flames between Lucifer’s horns flare, increasing in intensity when he starts circling the tight ring of muscles, coaxing them to let him in.

Lucifer’s not done spiralling though.

“How?! How long have you had that?!” He yells, stomach visibly tensing as his body instinctively arches into the teasing touch.

“As I said,” Alastor hums, dropping his voice as his eyes darken, “I expected you would return, so I wanted to be prepared to take you apart.”

“You- you’ve had that on you, just in case I showed-”

Lucifer cuts himself off with a needy moan when Alastor chooses that exact moment to finally dip the tip of his finger inside.

“-Ah, fuck!”

“A gentleman never reveals his secrets,” Alastor quips, twisting his finger around as Lucifer practically convulses from the much-needed stimulation, “Not that I can claim that title, when- oh what was it-”

He flops his head to the side, grin widening as he stares directly into the former angel’s rapidly widening eyes.

“When I’ve had my tongue in your ass.”

Lucifer laughs breathlessly, momentarily taken aback as his eyes sparkle with excitement, “You say that but you’re not even- ah, ah,ah!”

It should have been a given, but the surprise on his face as Alastor pushes his finger further inside is so genuine that it momentarily throws Alastor off kilter. The pull to place reassuring kisses against the nearest patch of skin he can reach is irresistible, especially when Lucifer practically keens from the warring sensations consuming his trembling frame.

Alastor only stops when Lucifer’s taken every inch of his finger. Until he feels the curve of those soft cheeks against his knuckle.

Then he stills, the intensity of the moment rendering them both breathless.

It's then that Alastor realises how tightly he’s tucked himself into Lucifer’s side. How he’s pressing himself against every inch of that heated skin instinctively. The erection straining the front of his pants is getting a decent amount of friction against Lucifer’s side and his smile twitches as the idea of humping his leg like a damned dog doesn’t repulse him enough as it should.

Especially when Lucifer’s body spasms against him the second he starts moving his fingers, making it clear his fabric prison is unmistakably wet around the head of his cock.

Alastor hisses through his teeth as he gives his hips an experimental buck, momentarily losing himself in the pursuit of his own pleasure. It's both immensely pleasurable and not nearly enough. Not when he wants to bury himself inside the tight heat that's currently squeezing around his finger.

Which, once again, makes him consider his motives for doing all of this.

He doesn’t fully understand what Lucifer’s doing to him, both physically and mentally, but at this point, it shouldn’t be as jarring as it feels.

Because one look at his tear-streaked cheeks. One glance at the lips that are swollen from being chewed on, and one moment to stare into the eyes that regard him like he’s the one who is a god among men-

-It’s no wonder Alastor has to pause, shoving his spare hand to his crotch to stop himself from coming undone far too soon.

When the moment passes, when he manages to claw himself back from the brink, he moves back to his previous position of kneeling against Lucifer’s back.

Lucifer whines at the momentary loss of all-over contact. Even as Alastor keeps up a steady pace, adding a second finger when Lucifer’s insides seem intent on sucking him in further. But the strained noises as he shifts around him are easy to read as cries of protest as well as pleasure.

Which only makes the feeling of their bodies slotting back together all the more satisfying.

Like they’re made to fit-

“Oh, fuck Alastor!”

Lucifer breaks that train of thought with a howl of his name, letting him know he’s rubbing against that perfect spot. For both of their sakes, Alastor pumps his fingers with increased speed, focusing every brain cell that’s not malfunctioning on hitting that spot relentlessly.

“Oh my-ah!” Lucifer tries, and fails, to move away from the harsh stimulation before accepting his fate with a guttural moan and a full body shudder, “Fuck, that's so good!”

Already delirious, Alastor can't keep a grip on his sanity completely if he also wants to see this through. His antlers creak as they expand further, casting a shadow over the King’s already bound form as the tentacles binding him to the ground start writhing erratically.

Restlessly.

Alastor gives in to their whims, delighting in the increase in pitch as the eldritch horrors resume their earlier torment of the King’s sensitive wings. Even muted, the glide he can feel as they slide through several layers of soft feathers has him biting his lip.

Even if it’s a poor substitution to sinking his teeth into quivering flesh in front of him for a second time. While it would help him overwhelm an already screaming Lucifer, but not with keeping the self-control he’s got hanging on by a fucking thread.

Several lines of black drool drip down Alastor’s chin as he twists his fingers inside the King’s tight heat. It’s enough to have several rivulets drip onto that alabaster skin of his upper thighs, staining it like spilled ink on paper. The same could be said for his tentacles, several of which are branching off without his permission to seek out more of Lucifer’s heated flesh.

Or rather, Alastor initially assumes it’s without permission.

With the mixture of bloodlust, desire and far too many warring emotions to name his head is far from clear. It clicks too slowly that his usual link with his ungodly powers has switched from one of direct instruction to acting purely on instinct.

This is confirmed as he feels one slither across Lucifer’s heaving chest, the end twisting itself around one of his already hardened nubs.

“Ah!” Lucifer’s legs shake as Alastor takes this discovery to the next level, circling the nipple he can feel responding to the tendril touch while teasing it with flicks from the tip, “Yes, there! Fuck, fuck, fuck!, how did you kno-oh!-www?”

He didn’t. While he’d not exactly ignored the area previously, it seems he’s managed to wind the King up so tightly that every sensitivity he has has been heightened to the nth degree. Emboldened, Alastor chooses to take the opportunity to split his fingers, scissoring them to stretch the tight passage fully.

Reminding Lucifer of what’s to come.

Of just who will be shoving every inch of himself inside the tight heat that’s tormented him over countless nights. The feeling he’s ached for now so close he can fucking taste-

Alastor swallows down a mouthful of static, the feedback screech thankfully drowned out by the King’s cries. The reaction to this new torment only escalates the series of drawn-out noises building to a crescendo in record time. With the juxtaposition of firm fingers against the tendril flicking the tip of Lucifer’s nipple like a wagging tongue, it’s almost too easy a feat to take the King apart.

And yet, Alastor can’t resist the opportunity to gloat.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks a little too breathlessly for his liking, chuckling when his sentence is punctuated by a strained moan as Lucifer’s compressed lungs finally give out, “Your body lacks any ability to hide what you crave so deeply. You’re deliciously responsive, Your Highness.”

Lucifer chokes, whole body shaking as Alastor crooks both fingers and circles that spot again. The trembling skin so close to his now aching jaw proving to be too tempting to ignore.

Not when he remembers how much he enjoyed a particular act in their previous rendezvous, and how he’s held out for too long to resist that whim in the slightest.

“Sounding like that, I believe-” Alastor purrs, adjusting his position until he’s sure Lucifer can feel his breath on the tops of his upturned thighs, “-that you’re ready to take more for me, aren’t you?”

There’s another moan in reply as a second tendril slides onto the King’s chest, starting the same dance on his opposite nipple. He takes the broken cries of his name and what sounds like a plea as the consent he’s seeking.

Mainly for his own gratification, of course.

Which he milks to the fullest extent as he runs his tongue over his teeth and purposefully darkens his expression.

More black droll splashes against that perfectly pale canvas as Alastor’s mouth waters in anticipation. He thrusts his fingers in deep before applying pressure backward, widening the area he’ll have to work with before withdrawing them fully.

Revelling in the pitiful whine as his rapidly growing tongue twirls around that pulsing ring of muscle just begging for him to come back inside.

Which he happily obliges.

Lucifer's pleas are momentarily silenced, the shock stealing his voice completely. It’s a compliment in itself, to render the usually vocal King utterly speechless turning Alastor on more than he can currently process. Needing an outlet, he ends up filling the void with a noise of his own.

Turning what would be an admission of the state he’s in to intentionally fucking with Lucifer’s already fragile psyche.

Alastor moans low and loud as he pushes his elongated tongue inside the King’s inviting heat.

It has the desired effect. When Lucifer regains the ability to make noises his voice is sonorous, gradually regaining his previous volume while it sores up the octaves. Alastor pushes his tongue in further and he’s gifted with a twitching body and the King’s tail thumping in the dirt.

Even in this position, where he can barely move from the writhing restraints and being practically folded in half, Lucifer’s instincts are pushing him to take some sort of control back.

There’s no doubt in Alastor’s mind that if their positions were flipped, The King would be grinding on his face with abandon. That’s an idea to file away for another time, but it also gives him a way to overwhelm Lucifer even further.

Alastor parts his knees, sinking down in the dirt as he pushes his tongue deeper. He directs the tentacles pinning the King’s wings to move them upwards, making space around his flank. It’s a tricky manoeuvre, and likely an uncomfortable adjustment with how sensitive those wings are, but Alastor keeps Lucifer placid by lavishing him with attention from his tongue.

All so he has the space to push himself forward, sliding a knee on either side of Lucifer’s body.

He drops one hand to wrap around the King’s waist, pulling himself flush against that shivering frame while moaning into the heated flesh. Because while it allows him to dip lower, reach deeper, he’s back to the predicament of having a perfectly solid space to rut against in the centre of Lucifer’s back.

Alastor squeezes the King tighter, rocking into him as his other hand wraps around the base of that lashing tail.

Perfectly positioned, Alastor launches a triple assault. The tentacles at Lucifer’s nipples flick and tease with the same tempo as the tongue devouring his insides all while Alastor jerks the base of the King’s tail with a staccato pace.

And Lucifer is powerless to resist.

With the position adjustment, Alastor lets some of the tentacles go slack, giving the King more chance to move in his otherwise restrictive grasp. Pleasure seems to assault every cell in his body as those previously high moans turn guttural, breathless.

Almost like Lucifer can’t comprehend being pushed to such levels of bliss.

Which swells Alastor’s ego further as he pulls back, prolonging the torture by switching to teasing the King’s rim as he catches his breath.

It has the opposite effect.

“Oh fuck- Alastor!” Lucifer gasps, moaning so deeply Alastor can feel the vibrations through that slender back, “How-how are you so good with your tonnngueeee.”

Taking the unexpected turn in his stride, Alastor repeats the action, narrowing the tip of his tongue to a point as he circles the tight ring of muscle that’s so eager to surrender to his will.

He draws back, revelling in the distinctly wet sounds as he parts the trembling thighs enough to see Lucifer’s flushed face through them.

Their eyes meet as he drags his elongated tongue over his teeth, “Use whatever means you have to your advantage is lesson two, correct?”

Lucifer’s already blown-out pupils widen further, his swollen lips parting with a shaky exhale as he regards Alastor with nothing short of the reverence he deserves. He takes it as an invitation to showboat, leaning his face forward between Lucifer’s thighs. He ignores the way the King’s currently neglected cock skims his hairline to unravel the full length of his tongue, letting the drool drip obscenely onto that reddened chest.

Making it clear his intention to feast on the King is far from satisfied.

“Oh you- fuck- That’s not what I meant by- sh-IT-” Lucifer’s whole body spasms as the tentacles circle his nipples tighter while the tips flick rapidly, “Fuck, this has no right to be this good I-oh!”

He cuts himself off with another moan as the stimulation overwhelms him. His cock twitches against his quivering stomach, the slick at the top overflowing to drip down on his already sticky chest.

Alastor’s mouth waters in an almost Pavlovian response at the sight, the flickers of indignation he feels at such a waste compelling him to abandon his post. He resists, just, intent on finishing his current meal first.

Even if he’s making mental notes to spend an hour licking Lucifer’s spend off his chest on another occasion.

“What can I say-” Alastor purrs, moving his mouth back towards Lucifer’s rhythmically clenching hole, “I'm a remarkably fast learner.”

Despite every cell in his body urging him to continue, he pauses. Tension builds at breakneck speed as he lowers his mouth painfully slowly, the heat of his breath serving as a distraction for the extra tentacle he’s pulling from his back.

It crawls over his shoulder, making him hiss from the sensitivities he’s currently ignoring in his own body. Which, when blown directly onto Lucifer’s already wet skin, is taken as more teasing with a gasping breath in response.

Not giving the game away until Alastor pushes his tongue back inside as the tentacle slips between the King’s legs to wrap around his cock.

“Oh!” Lucifer’s body locks up as both the tentacle and the hand Alastor has around his tail move in tandem, “Fuck it’s too much, fuck, fuck!”

Alastor ignores his pleas, chuckling into his skin as he fucks Lucifer with his tongue while those sounds toe the line between moans and sobs. His own cock pulses with every overstimulated cry, the urge to treat himself to a tentacle of his own one he almost gives into.

But he resists. Because while he can tell Lucifer’s already ready to burst, he wants to be buried to the hilt inside the heat surrounding his tongue when he reaches his own peak.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from rocking against him rhythmically as he drives Lucifer closer and closer to the edge.

Everything starts blurring around the edges, the secondary sensations he can feel through his tentacles rivalling the things he feels in his own body. To the point Alastor would even swear down it’s the tip of one of his claws teasing the slit of Lucifer’s cock, or a second tongue he’s managed to grow flicking against the hardened nubs.

Or that he’s being treated to the caress of slippery soft feathers against his own flushed cheeks.

It’s a pleasure that’s rapturous in its own right, coupled with the fact Lucifer is crumbling in record time, and Alastor’s in utter bliss.

“Oh-oh! There, right there” Lucifer cries, allowing his shoulders to be practically lifted off the floor entirely as he rocks against Alastor’s tongue, “Deep, please Al. I’m so- fucking- ah!”

It’s clear he’s unbelievably close with the way his insides tighten, the inevitable coil winding him tighter than a spring.

Alastor could push him over that knife’s edge in seconds.

If he wanted to.

But…where would be the fun in that?

Alastor growls as he removes his tongue, letting his tentacles ease up just enough to keep Lucifer balanced on the brink of ecstasy but never quite tipping him over.

“What did you say about small packages?” He says breathlessly, catching Lucifer’s gaze through the sheen of fresh tears in his eyes, “It wasn’t coming often, but-”

He tightens his grip around Lucifer’s waist, letting him feel the erection throbbing against his back, “I think I could be convinced to make an exception.”

This far gone, he expects that Lucifer’s protests will be short-lived. Easily dismissed with a few skillful flicks of the appendages at his disposal.

What Alastor doesn’t expect is The King keeping to his word, supplicating to his will without a single protest.

In fact, it’s the exact opposite.

“Please!” Lucifer sobs, hips bucking against the tentacle teasing his heavily leaking cock, “Oh- fuck I’m so close-”

Yessssss

Giving into the ravenous beast inside of himself, Alastor’s eyes turn black, and his voice takes on an impossibly low tone.

“-Tell me what you need, Lucifer,” He growls, mouth filling with a mixture of blood and drool as his antlers double in size, “Beg for your deliverance.”

“Please-ah- Please- let me cum,” Lucifer answers as the flame between his horns flickers and grows, singeing what little grass was left on the dirt beneath his head, “Fuck, I can’t take it, Please.”

It’s music to the ears bristling above Alastor’s head, the hair covering them standing on end from the static charge surrounding him. His bones creak and snap, his limbs elongating to the point he has to bend further to reach Lucifer’s trembling body. His sanity frays around the edges as his demonic form battles for internal dominance, urging him to consume the raw power the King holds for himself.

While he has the chance.

Alastor sates the beast by feeding its ego instead, “Louder.”

His grip tightens, anticipating the very real possibility of rejection for pushing things too far.

Instead, Lucifer falls apart at the seams.

“Please-”

He looks straight into Alastor’s eyes, not phased by the monster he’s become in the slightest.

In fact, with the way he shudders in his clutches, it’s clear he’s willing to embrace it.

“Fuck, Alastor,” Lucifer whines, piercing through Alastor’s visage to appeal to the shadow of the man he once was, “Please make me cum, I need you, Please.”

It’s like a knife through the chest, shattering Alastor’s world as his eyes flicker back to their normal form.

Making him shudder as an unfamiliar warmth blooms in his chest.

It’s replaced by enough terror to make his smile waver as he escalates his plans as a way to quickly hide the cracks in his mask. He leans back down, positioning his mouth over Lucifer’s twitching entrance as his tentacles resume earlier torture.

“Good,” Alastor says softly, static crackling on his tongue, “Enjoy your reward.”

He growls at Lucifer’s whimpers, making sure to push himself flush against Lucifer’s back before dealing the final blow.

“My King.”

Alastor wastes no further time, unfurling the tongue that’s practically dripping with its own need to delve back inside. The last thing he sees before he lets his eyes slip shut is Lucifer throwing his head back against the dirt, his soft lips parted as moans spill from his lips without restriction.

Fueling Alastor further as he finally delivers on those words that have haunted him for countless nights.

Devouring Lucifer until he’s screaming his name.

With all the build-up, it takes remarkably little time to force Lucifer back to the edge. Alastor pushes his tongue in deep, just like the King begged him for. He curves it upwards, towards Lucifer’s stomach, flicking it purposefully against his inner walls. There’s a needy moan, which Alastor takes as the signal to use the tentacle he has wrapped around Lucifer’s cock to milk him for all he’s worth.

As Lucifer locks up with a silent scream Alastor’s close enough to hear the faint splatter of liquid.

He doesn’t need a visual to confirm the King is painting himself with his own seed.

It’s the closest thing to heaven Alastor thinks he’ll ever experience, and his own twitching arousal hasn’t even had the chance to sink into the spasming heat around his tongue.

Since he’s in a generous mood, he moves quite quickly so as not to exhaust Lucifer’s trembling body any further than need be. It’s not entirely selfless either, not when he needs to feel Lucifer’s limbs wrapped around him as soon as possible.

Alastor withdraws his tongue, supporting the King’s back as he lowers his heaving form to the ground fully. With the help of a few tentacles adjusting where they’re holding him, he manages to get Lucifer laid out flat while the rest let up their hold on his over-sensitive wings.

Once he’s steady, Alastor leans back to admire his work.

Lucifer is wrecked beyond comprehension. He’s panting heavily, a genuine smile flickering in and out of existence as he shakes his head in what looks to be utter disbelief. He’s flushed from his cheeks down to the path of skin just above his navel, the blood rush of being practically upside down definitely attributing to what seems to be delirious bliss.

Not to mention how dishevelled he is, that usually well-kept hair a matted mess against his wet forehead

The sight is arresting, compelling Alastor to lean over the King’s prone form between his still open legs to gather some of that spend between his fingers.

Then, immediately moving them upward to Lucifer's trembling lips, painting them with his own seed.

“Filthy thing,” Alastor praises in a gruff voice, placing his free hand near the King’s head to balance himself inches above that flushed face, “You’re just made to be ravished, aren’t you Dear?”

Lucifer’s eyes go wide before he melts from the praise, his smaller frame shivering as he rolls against the ground. Further staining his bare skin, making Alastor wonder what it would take to taint that purity irrevocably until the darkness consumes them both.

The thought has him throbbing, the absolute need he has to be inside that beautiful mess momentarily consuming him.

It would only be fair. After pushing Lucifer to his limits, he’s earned the right to take what he needs from the body beneath him. The one that’s already slick, primed, and prepared for the cock twitching at the seam of Alastor’s pants.

But giving in to his own needs isn’t what is going to turn the cards forever in his favour. The quick gratification nothing on making Lucifer beg for him, over and over until he can’t deny his need to submit.

For the King of Hell to admit he’d gladly sign himself over to the Radio Demon and-

“-Fuck,” Lucifer shivers, arching towards him while spreading his legs as wide as he can with the tentacles still slung around his limbs, “Please. I’m ready. I can take more. I’ll be good. Please.”

Give in.

Alastor’s smile twitches as he tries to repeat the idea of having Lucifer in his clutches for good as a way to hold on.

“So soon?” he teases as the green glow of his eyes has shadows dancing on Lucifer’s face.

“Please,” Lucifer whines, blinking away fresh tears as his body bows, arching upward towards him, “I want you. Inside. Don’t try and tell me you don’t need this-”

Lucifer manages to break his legs free of the sloppy restraints, placing his feet on the floor so he can arch his body upward.

Brushing his cum-slick core against the front of Alastor’s pants, giving his straining cock the friction it’s been crying out for.

“-Taken care of?”

Alastor’s control snaps.

He falls forward, pinning Lucifer back down to the floor with his full weight as he finds those soft lips with his own.

There’s nothing soft about the kiss. The desperation brings too much teeth and too little finesse, quickly becoming messy with a mix of saliva and who knows what else. With Lucifer moaning needily against his tongue, Alastor doesn't care.

He’s pretty sure he can feel the world around them start to spin.

He tastes the saltiness of Lucifer’s seed on those lips, a taste so distinctly Lucifer it immediately bumps itself to the top of his list of addictions. Without shame Alastor laps at the King’s mouth, greedily swallowing every last drop he can find. It’s just as intoxicating as the rest of him, making Alastor forget everything other than that hot mouth for a good few moments.

Then Lucifer’s legs wrap around his back and Alastor can’t resist the urge to grind his stiff cock down into the willing body beneath him.

Sparks explode behind his eyes as he chases that high, panting against the lips that seem so eager to swallow his noises. But as the initial wave fades, Alastor realises the road he’s going down with startling clarity.

No matter how tempting it is to rut against the willing body below him, he’s not letting this opportunity slip out of his fingers.

Not when he’s waited so long to rend that perfect body in two.

Alastor breaks the kiss with a dramatic gasp, peering down at that divine temptation through narrowed eyes. The fact that Lucifer doesn’t even look smug breaks him even further, willing him to take the King up on his offer as soon as fucking possible.

But, he’ll do it on his own terms.

Alastor falls back onto his haunches, making sure he has Lucifer’s full attention before bringing his hands to his belt. He unbuckles it, only just able to hide the shaking in his hands as he tries to focus on the King’s widening eyes.

When they practically glitter at the sight of him pulling out his painfully throbbing cock, Alastor’s pretty sure he finally understands what a fluttering stomach truly feels like.

With a snap of his fingers, the tentacles pick Lucifer into the air, suspending him like a rag doll as Alastor changes his position. He straightens his legs out in front of himself, sitting on the ground properly before pulling Lucifer down into his lap.

The change is met with needy cries, then smaller arms attempting to encircle his neck.

Which Alastor dismisses immediately, using one thick tentacle to bind Lucifer’s arms behind his back, joining in with the ones rebinding his wings.

Making it so Lucifer is back to a shuddering mess by the time he’s seated.

With Alastor’s cock sliding between his slick cheeks.

“I forgot how fucking big you are,” Lucifer arches into him, immediately making that delicious friction even more addictive, “Oh God!”

Alastor tries not to panic over the heavens opening for a second time, holding his breath while Lucifer’s ass tries to steal his attention.

Again, nothing happens. Leading him to believe that Lucifer really can do nothing to anger the heavens save for marching up there himself. That the former favourite is untouchable, unmonitored, and powerful enough to turn anyone in his Kingdom into a pile of dust in seconds.

And the fact it’s Alastor’s lap he’s in, that it’s his cock Lucifer’s desperately grinding against like he hasn’t just been made to cum over his own face, makes his head spin.

To the point where he reaches around Lucifer’s waist, digging his hands into his hips, stilling him as uncharacteristically light laughter escapes his throat.

“I would think such a name on your lips is quite blasphemous, Lucifer,” Alastor smirks, digging his claws in as some of Lucifer’s slick drips between where they’re joined, matting the tuft of hair around his public bone, “Are you intent on committing every sin available tonight, My Dear?”

He follows that up with a thrust of his hips, making them both gasp and shudder from the realisation it’s the first one they can both feel.

Even if it’s an imitation of the real thing, sliding his cock between those plump cheeks sends sparks of pleasure up Alastor’s spine.

“We can-ah- try,” Lucifer replies, biting his lip as his momentary composure crumbles with another thrust, “Fuck, Al. Please. Please.”

“Stop whining,” Alastor teases, sitting up fully so he can feel that heaving chest against his, “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“You.”

There’s another flood of warmth, one which Alastor tries his best to ignore even as his smile curls enough to expose his gums on one side as feedback builds in volume around them.

If Lucifer notices, he doesn’t show it. He leans forward as much as he can in his binds, staring Alastor down with the kind of eyes that could make entire empires crumble. When Lucifer breaks that spell-binding eye contact, he shifts Alastor’s chin out of the way with his head so he can place those soft lips against the exposed sliver of skin at the top of his neck.

“Fuck me,” He breathes into Alastor's skin, “Please, I can’t wait.”

“Can’t?” Alastor hums, digging his claws in until he breaks the surface, wetting them with more of that delicious nectar, “Or are you simply unwilling to?”

There’s an indignant huff, and something murmured he doesn’t catch.

Alastor pays it no mind. Drunk on being able to hold everything Lucifer wants just out of reach, he snaps his hips upward, jolting the King enough that his entire length slides between those slick cheeks.

The head of his cock catches against Lucifer’s tailbone, the additional friction sending ripples of pleasure up his spine which loosens his lips even further.

“Perhaps learning some patience would-” Alastor starts, cutting himself off when he feels the threat of sharp teeth at his neck, “Hrk!”

Lucifer laughs when he gasps, tightening his thighs when he tries to move him back with his tentacles, making it extremely clear Alastor can’t escape without risking his jugular being torn.

Sweat trickles its way down the back of Alastor’s shirt, making it stick to his skin as he processes the very real danger he’s in.

The thought of the incomparable pain he’s about to experience does little to help his plight. Instead, pulling out some interesting mental and physical reactions as he does his best not to move a muscle.

“Shall I repeat the lesson about letting your guard down?” Lucifer chuckles into his neck, making it very clear he can feel Alastor’s cock throbbing as he rolls his hips backward, “Especially when you insist on pissing your opponent off repeatedly.”

The implications weigh so heavy on his chest that it takes Alastor a few beats to notice how light the King’s tone is.

And the rest clicks into place.

Lucifer is toying with him, making him work for what he’s already earned simply for the fun of it.

Acting like the kind of insufferable brat that makes Alastor’s heart race for entirely different reasons.

He clicks his fingers, keeping his neck still as one of the tentacles unties Lucifer’s arm to bring it toward him, perfectly positioning that slim wrist against his teeth.

Even with the awkward angle, there’s no missing the sharp inhale of breath and Lucifer’s body shaking in his lap.

“Two can play at that game, Lucifer.”

He snaps, heart pounding when Lucifer doesn’t draw back but continues to tease those sharp teeth against his skin.

Alastor does the same, their movements becoming a dance of their own as he tilts his head to the side, giving Lucifer more access while finding the perfect spot to press his teeth against.

When Lucifer’s breathing hitches at the same time as his, Alastor can’t resist a final taunt, mouth already watering with the memory of the delicious blood shimmering just below the surface of that porcelain skin.

“Do your worst.”

He barely gets to breathe the last word out before he feels the sting of Lucifer biting into his neck.

Alastor takes a beat to fully succumb to the sensations, inhaling steadily while white-hot pain floods his senses, making him lightheaded. He hisses on the exhale as Lucifer’s bite deepens, the dagger-like teeth brushing the sensitive nerve endings that send his system into overdrive.

It’s then that Alastor makes an interesting discovery about himself.

The cock still pressed between Lucifer’s cheeks starts to throb. It’s as if there’s a direct line jolting down from his neck to his previously underutilised organ with how intense it feels, and Alastor’s not sure if he’ll ever get enough. Not when Lucifer’s teeth are able to do more for him in those few seconds than all those awkward fumblings he’s suffered through in his lifetime combined.

But then, he’s also never let anyone have their teeth on his jugular before either. Or let himself explore the depths of his enjoyment of pain other than indulging in the thrill of battle.

Currently though, with the way he can’t keep his hips still, the word 'enjoyment' seems like quite the understatement.

It shouldn't be a surprise. Not with all the injuries he sustained over the years giving him a particular kind of thrill. And from knowing just what to do when faced with a victim of particular predilections. But still, the desperate moan he lets escape while sinking his own teeth into Lucifer’s skin says far more than he would ever dare say.

Especially when that sound elevates at the same pace the pleasure exploding behind his eyes when that liquid ecstasy hits his tongue.

It’s unclear if it’s the lack of any padding, a vein he’s managed to find, or the feeling of his blood flowing into another’s mouth at the same time but the intensity of it all hits Alastor like a freight train. He can’t stop himself from biting down harder, prompting Lucifer to do the same as the angelic blood floods his senses.

It feels like every single one is amplified to an extraordinary degree, his body forgetting anything from the strain of their fight. Gone are the aches of his overexerted muscles or the strain in his back from tossing and turning for weeks.

But not only can he feel himself repairing, but certain parts of his senses heighten beyond comprehension. He can smell the dirt beneath them just as much as the sweetness of Lucifer’s skin mixed with the musk of the release now smeared all over his shirt.

And when Lucifer moves to get a better vantage point, he’s allowed the same, not even bothering to hide his moan of absolute bliss.

Alastor gulps down a mouthful like a man starved, eyes rolling in his head when he feels Lucifer mimic the action. Again, he moans, and there’s no mistaking the one the King gives him in reply as it vibrates through his skin.

Which sends him into a rapid spiral.

The idea that his blood, the mortal blood tainted with his life’s work of ruining and ending countless lives, could be as pleasurable to Lucifer as the divine nectar he offers is incomprehensible.

For someone who openly and loudly passes his judgement on sinners, the truth of his proclivities seem to be opposition.

It could be a case of ‘the lady doth protest too much’, or-

It could be that Alastor is also his exception.

Case in point; Lucifer’s already hard for him again. The King rocks steadily against his stomach as he whines into his bite, his body writhing as much as it can given the restraints. Which, combined with everything else making him feel uncharacteristically generous, has Alastor loosening the tentacles binding his limbs.

Because he wants, no needs to know how the King will react when his agency is returned.

The answer comes by Lucifer’s arm immediately wrapping around his back, clinging to him, as those pale legs do the same around his tailbone. The sound of fabric tearing is unmistakable, as is the feeling of Lucifer’s mouth quivering against his sweat-slicked skin through the litany of whimpers escaping his lips.

Alastor’s body reacts to the onslaught by making it impossible to keep still, the lines between pleasure and pain becoming more blurred as the effects of the blood steal away his very sense of self.

Gone are his inhibitions, of anything other than the body wrapped around him, spinning his world on its axis.

All he can think about is the embrace they’re locked into, the exchange of blood like a circulation with its own pulse, filling voids in himself he’s long since forgotten.

When Alastor feels his grip on reality start to leave him completely he breaks with a loud gasp, panting heavily. He makes no attempt to hide the guttural moan when Lucifer follows suit, the sharp pain of his teeth withdrawing making his head spin.

That’s even before he sees the King’s face and feels something inside him shatter into a million pieces.

Alastor has seen what he looks like when covered in the blood of his victims in mirrors, windows, and even their own eyes. He’s also aware that in certain nocturnal lights that blood, both human and demonic, can appear quite black.

That prior experience doesn’t matter.

There’s no way he can prepare himself for the sight of Lucifer’s mouth absolutely dripping in blood. His blood. Completely covering his previously snow-white chin as it trickles down in tiny rivulets, staining his skin. Also metaphorically, with the idea of Lucifer being someone to revel in his same vices marking him in ways that he’ll never be able to fully scrub clean.

All while being backlit by an almost full moon grants Lucifer a remnant of the halo he once had.

When the King of Hell smiles at him, making more of that thick blood spill from those siren’s lips, Alastor is hit with a wave of misplaced regret over already selling his soul.

Which should twist his stomach, and yet-

This worked up, soaring this damn fucking high, Alastor can’t even feel disgusted at himself for considering the previously unthinkable.

Not while he’s too busy crumbling in utter reverence at the most beautiful image in existence.

Lucifer’s eyes glitter at the growl that crawls up from the very depths of his core. It seals The King’s fate as he eliminates the gap between them again to taste that sinful mouth for himself.

Moaning doesn’t quite cover the noises the King makes as Alastor forgets the meaning of subtlety. He dominates the kiss easily, using the same technique as he had when fucking Lucifer with his tongue to devour every inch of that warm mouth.

The contrasting taste of his own blood isn’t as jarring as he expects. Unlike the heavenly nectar clinging to his taste buds, his flavour is somewhat grounding. The metallic tang is bitter in comparison, yet familiar. With recognisable notes of the very setting they’re tearing each other apart in.

When he deepens the kiss, Lucifer supplicates without protest. He clings to Alastor tighter, wrapping his now-freed limbs around him, clinging to him like a second skin. His hands tear through the back of Alastor’s shirt, claws digging into his skin as he pushes his tongue back just as hard, conveying everything his mouth is too occupied to say.

He wants this just as much as Alastor. More so, even. And with the way Lucifer is reacting, it would be ridiculous to think he’s the only one done with denying it.

But in his drunken state, while literally feeding the King his own blood from what’s left on his tongue, Alastor’s emboldened enough to push his luck.

He leans into the way Lucifer’s softly grinding against his stomach by lowering his hands towards the King’s hips. His claws circle the soft curve of his ass before digging in enough to control those movements, making Lucifer rock into him harder as he re-opens the wound on his bottom lip with a rough snag.

Alastor breaks the kiss immediately after, watching the wound bloom to add a fresh addition to the mess smeared over the King’s quivering mouth.

His eyes flick up, taking in the glaze of awe swimming in those golden pools of desire, and his chest stutters.

It wasn’t the plan but their kiss resumes almost instantly, swallowing the whine Alastor refuses to believe is coming from his own chest. His mind momentarily blanks, unable to process anything other than the fresh flood of blood on his tongue or the soft lips against his own. He basks in the feeling while everything slows to a crawl.

Until the metaphorical light bulb goes off in his head.

He can use the kiss to his advantage.

Slowly, Alastor leans backward, removing one of his hands from Lucifer’s hips so he can shift his position into semi-recline. He flicks his tongue upwards, tracing the roof of Lucifer’s mouth while giving space for those sinfully sweet noises to escape his throat. He leans far enough away that the kiss breaks again, allowing the briefest flicker of his smile to return before Lucifer chases him, the forked tongue pressing at his teeth, begging for entrance.

That Alastor grants generously.

He controls the chase with ease, constantly switching between overwhelming Lucifer by deepening one second before moving away the next. It rewards him with several noises, each more needy than the last. He strikes gold when the heat of Lucifer’s flames skyrocket, threatening to singe his ears as he continually teases the King to oblivion and back.

And, more importantly, into utter distraction.

So he doesn’t notice Alastor’s other hand dropping. Or feel it reach behind him to where Alastor’s throbbing with anticipation.

Not until he takes advantage of the change in angle to rub the head of his cock against Lucifer’s slick entrance.

“Fuck!” Lucifer all but screams, rocking back against him while Alastor teases his cock around the sensitive ring, “Alastor, please. Please, please!”

And he could. It would be so easy.

But-

“Feeling desperate, are we, Sire?” Alastor teases as a shit-eating grin spreads across his face.

It has the desired effect. Lucifer’s eyes flicker to red as the flames between his horns burn brighter. For the first time in a while, Alastor becomes aware of the tentacles binding those soft wings as they ruffle and pull at the restaurants, eager to see their master freed.

“Fuck you,” Lucifer hisses, snarling even as a fresh wave of humiliation colours his cheeks, “You’re hard as fucking rock. Hypocrite.”

“Hit a nerve, did I?” He gloats, not letting Lucifer continue before bucking his hips, “No matter. I’ll gladly fulfil your request. However-”

Alastor pauses, both for effect and to buy himself time as he licks some of their bloody exchange from his teeth.

His plan is utterly foolish. It could disintegrate his advantage over the more powerful being in his lap with less than a second’s notice.

But Alastor could never resist poking a hornet’s nest when given a chance.

“Humour me a little, because there’s something I’m not quite grasping-”

Pausing again, he watches as Lucifer’s annoyed expression flickers with concern.

Encouraging him to continue.

“Surely the King of hell could have anyone he wants at his beck and call,” He hums, the hand on his cock adjusting the angle ever so slightly, “And yet, here you are. Back again. For what exactly? This-”

He bucks his hips, the head of his cock pushing at Lucifer’s entrance just enough for the tight ring to start to give.

“-Can’t be the best all of hell has to offer,” Alastor finishes, ignoring Lucifer’s whine when he changes the angle yet again to slide back between his cheeks, “So tell me, Lucifer. Why? Why has a mere sinner managed to convince a former angel to want him so badly that he’d consume tainted blood without protest?”

He pauses, holding his breath, knowing Lucifer could choose to shut him down at any-

“-Because, fuck-” Lucifer interrupts his thoughts, mouth moving far quicker than that hazy mind can process, “-Because you make me feel-”

“-Yes?” Alastor interjects rather than letting Lucifer hesitate for a second longer, encouraging him by rubbing himself against the hole that’s so eager for him to slip inside, “Go on.”

“Addicted.”

It’s a single word that deletes every single retort in Alastor’s mental arsenal.

Because it’s one stolen straight from the tip of his tongue.

“Like I could-ah-” Lucifer continues, rocking himself backwards as a single tear falls from his shimmering eyes, “-Like I could never have enough of you.”

Fuck.

The moment of clarity hits Alastor harder than when a misguided fool put a bullet through the centre of his skull.

There’s a low, loud, drawn-out noise. One that reminds him of a feral animal circling their prey before going in for the kill.

When Alastor realises it’s coming from him, he abandons any attempt to save face, hold back, or deny himself any longer.

“Put me inside,” He hisses, springing forward to dig his claws into the meat of Lucifer’s hips, “Now.”

Lucifer doesn’t question him. He does exactly as Alastor bids while he desperately fights the urge to flip their positions and shove himself inside to the brink.

Only because he’d crumble in seconds if he did.

Overstimulated and shaky, it takes Lucifer a few attempts to get the right angle on Alastor’s cock with his whole body trembling. When the head of his length catches, the King looks up, staring straight into Alastor’s eyes as his mouth steadily drops open with a moan.

Because, finally, he’s back inside that tight heat.

And it’s even better than he remembers.

Alastor bucks up, his vision momentarily leaving him, “Shit.”

The loss of control is rewarded by Lucifer sinking down further, his drawn-out moan becoming a warble as his legs twist around, knees landing on either side of Alastor’s hips. With the shift, he can sink down on the entirety of the cock already throbbing against his insides until Alastor feels the warmth of his ass against his unsteady thighs.

His gaze flicks down the King’s body to avoid the eyes that threaten to undo him, only to have to sink his claws in further when he’s treated to a positively salacious sight.

Of Lucifer’s taut stomach warping at the front, demonstrating just how much of a feat it is to fit Alastor inside his much smaller frame.

This time, it’s Alastor who’s left breathless when the King’s hands slam onto his chest, giving him the leverage he needs to bounce on his cock. Lucifer doesn’t let up, the lack of finesse evident in the way the pace stutters with every choked moan that spills from his still-bloody mouth.

He’s unbearably hot inside, tightness easing yet still keeping Alastor in a death grip as he rides him like he was born to do it. Unlike what Alastor expected, the King doesn’t take his time to get going, quickly picking up a pace that turns them both into groaning messes. And it feels incredible. Almost unbearably so, the rhythm Lucifer finds bordering on punishing as he focuses solely on the pursuit of his own pleasure.

Rendering Alastor speechless, hypnotised, and absolutely in a state of disbelief.

Because somehow it feels even better than the night he’d put on an untouchable pedestal.

Lucifer’s hips roll down with a practised technique that stirs a misplaced sense of envy inside him that he quickly tries to dismiss.

It takes root regardless.

Even though he knows Lucifer is aeons older, with the breadth of experience to boot, something inside him twists at the thought of another seeing Lucifer breaking like this.

Of anyone getting to see those beautiful eyes brimming with tears as the cock inside him overwhelms every one of his senses.

Once again, Alastor vows to make sure he’s someone The King will never forget.

With the physical sensations tanking his processing, it takes Alastor far too long to re-engage with a more active role. But when he does, when he sinks his claws in deep enough to bleed while bucking his hips into Lucifer to fill him to the brim, the tables are quickly flipped.

If he had any doubts about Lucifer needing someone to take his leash in a firm hand, it’s dispelled quickly when a few thrusts make him crumble.

Lucifer arches his back as he’s pounded into, moaning loudly as his body starts going slack. It’s like a switch is flipped, rendering him little more than a toy for Alastor’s use. He’s so easily manipulated between the firm hands digging into his skin and the cock he’s speared on.

Alastor’s hardly a beacon of decorum with the mixture of heavy breaths and groans underscoring Lucifer’s every noise, but he’s done pretending to be that either.

No, with this amount of pleasure singing through every ounce of his body.

And he wants more.

“Yesss” Alastor digs his heels into the ground, pulling Lucifer against him to grind against the spot that makes him see stars, “Harder. You can take it.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, whole body trembling as the fire between his horns flickers erratically.

There’s a look in those eyes, a glimmer of something Alastor can’t place, yet one he can’t let slip by.

“Show me, Lucifer,” He commands, pulling almost all the way out before slamming the King down hard despite nearly being at the brink himself, “Don’t-hah don’t you dare hold back.”

Something in the air shifting is the only warning he gets.

Lucifer slams himself down, moaning in several voices as the rush of raw power hits Alastor in the chest, flattening him onto his back. He feels his tentacles strain and the bonds break far too easily, heart pounding so heavily he can feel it in his throat even before confirming what’s happened.

But once again, it does little to prepare him for the vision in his lap.

There’s no questioning Lucifer’s status as heaven’s former favourite when presented with his full glory. All six wings extend to their full wing span as he leers down at Alastor, his features warping from angelic to the fallen creature he’s become. There’s nothing but red where the eyes full of wonder once were, and the hellfire between his horns is now a blaze stretching several feet into the air.

To top it all off, he’s still panting heavily. Only now each breath is accompanied by literal flames pouring from his mouth, sending puffs of steam into the cool night air as his tail lashes frantically behind him.

Lucifer, the King of Hell, commanding Alastor’s veneration even while speared on his cock.

“This is what you wanted, right?” He grins, those flames spilling on either side of his mouth as his pupilless eyes see through to Alastor’s very core, “To fuck the devil himself?”

Fuck, Yes.

It wasn’t Alastor’s initial goal, but now it’s painfully obvious that this is the moment he’s been waiting for.

He should be cowering before such splendour, begging to be spared.

Instead, he pushes himself upward, staring at his demise in those blank eyes while his cock twitches deep inside Lucifer’s still-shaking body.

“Let me taste you.”

Lucifer blinks, pupils returning the second before their lips reconnect in a bruising kiss.

Alastor doesn’t bother to hide his moan of utter desire as he pushes his tongue against Lucifer’s own. The taste of sulphur is unmistakable, and yet, the flames do little more than tickle the sides of his mouth as Lucifer succumbs within seconds. His whines vibrate through Alastor’s tongue as he cards his hand through that soft hair, deepening the kiss by making Lucifer move with him.

Just so he can taste more when he starts rocking Lucifer against him, reminding him of the pulsing length buried inside him.

Lucifer breaks the kiss to gasp as he’s fucked deeply, the steam from his breath like a furnace against Alastor’s face.

It doesn’t last.

There’s a hand touching one of Alastor’s ears, making him shudder as Lucifer initiates another kiss. It’s messy, desperate, with Lucifer’s whines and the speed of his lips demanding everything Alastor has to give.

Which he does. More than gladly.

Alastor groans against the lips intent on covering him with a mix of their blood while increasing the speed of his thrusts with every pass. Lucifer responds with even more vigour, the lack of restraints allowing him to writhe against Alastor’s body exactly how he needs.

It could be argued it’s in breach of the promise Lucifer made to submit to his every whim, but Alastor couldn’t care less.

Not when it feels this fucking incredible.

Not when he wants to see the King utterly ruin himself by whatever means necessary.

So, Alastor adapts accordingly. He listens to Lucifer’s body, fucking him in whatever ways make him moan the loudest, making it so he can feel his own name being whimpered against his lips.

Their movements become frantic, with each pass pulling noises he’s never heard Lucifer make before. It’s a mantra he can’t quite decipher, just as much a tell of how far gone the King is as the trembling limbs and claws tearing at his back.

And the tears dampening his cheeks.

Alastor only realises how wet his skin is when Lucifer breaks the kiss with a howl, arching his body while throwing his head back.

Showing that long neck in its entirety, making Alastor throb at the thought of mottling that perfectly pale skin.

It’s a fantasy that will have to wait for another time with the way Lucifer starts to ride him in earnest. The King’s noises increase in pitch as he pushes Alastor backward, claws digging into his chest, using that for leverage to start bouncing himself on his cock in earnest.

Making Alastor’s breathing hitch when the previously thrashing tail wraps itself around one of his thighs.

“-Yessss” He hisses, jutting his hips upward as the sublime being above him starts rolling his body against him, writhing fluidly like his serpentine alter-ego, “Just like that. Good. Good Pet.”

It’s said on a whim, yet Lucifer is absolutely sonorous in his response. His wings expand, feathers ruffling as he meets Alastor’s gaze with a fresh glaze of overstimulated tears in his eyes. His hips stutter, the practically constant moans turning into pleas that fall unbidden from his lips.

“Alastor, please,” Lucifer slams himself down as the tail around his thigh tightens, “Please, please, please.”

“Please, what?” Alastor purrs, reaching towards where they’re joined to wrap his hand around Lucifer’s weeping cock, “I thought we talked about- Oh fuck-”

The unseen consequences are the ripple through Lucifer’s body, his insides tightening around Alastor’s cock as his vision blurs at the edges.

“-You’re so tight,” He hisses, lips loosening as the pit of his stomach starts to coil, “You’re made for this, aren’t you? Made for me to destroy.”

He hardly recognises the words leaving his lips, the phrases unlike any combination he’s utilised before. They’re unseemly. Raw. A testament to how rapidly the divine being above him is crawling under his skin.

Figuratively, and somewhat literally too.

Lucifer’s torn his shirt to shreds, his hands now caressing places he’s never let another soul see, let alone dig their desperate hands into. What would normally repulse him is sending him reeling, making him discover sensitivities he previously deemed non-existent.

Making him wonder just how much of his body he’s yet to understand.

Lucifer whines, riding him hard as those claws dig in harder, as if afraid he’ll vanish if he doesn’t cling to him.

And something inside Alastor snaps.

He pulls Lucifer down, shifting the angle so he can slam into the willing body now pressed against his practically bare chest. It's too late to think what the consequences will be with so many barriers they’re breaking.

Or how that realisation doesn't fill him with the repulsion it should.

If anything, it makes Alastor ache to shatter every last one.

“Please, just, don’t-” Lucifer finally answers, sobbing into Alastor’s skin as his voice turns hoarse, “Don’t let go. Please, Alastor.”

There’s another snap, like the twanging of a guitar string twisted too tight, and Alastor swears he feels his heart skip several beats.

Logically, this shouldn’t be any different from the first time he ravaged the King on the balcony. But as he feels his cock start to twitch rapidly and the raging inferno inside him starts to burn hotter, there’s something far more intense stirring deep within him.

Akin to his never-ending hunger, it’s similar to the urge to consume that hits him when presented with a fresh victim.

But not quite.

It’s different. New. Like something long-forgotten that he can’t quite name.

Instinctual. Primal.

He gives into the compulsion, pulling Lucifer close to his chest, grunting as his lower half tightens, signalling the end to something that’s been building all evening and yet still feels far too soon.

But he can’t stop.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alastor whispers into one of his pointed ears, rocking the King against him in a rhythm fast enough to end them both, “Give in to me, Lucifer.”

He bites down just as Lucifer screams.

“Fuck, please!”

His eyes snap open just as he bottoms out, throbbing painfully as his canines elongate and static starts to buzz around his head. A sound bubbles up from the depths of his throat, a growl that’s far more beast than man, one that has the submissive creature in his arms utterly fawning for him.

It’s Lucifer signalling he wants this, that he needs Alastor to fill him up to the brim, for Alastor to mark him deep inside, claim him-, and-

What?

Alastor slows, alarm bells blaring as panic bubbles in his chest.

It hits him that he’s completely out of control. That he’s lost the ability to piece together what’s happening while fighting the instincts that are now deafeningly loud.

And that terrifies him.

He starts to pull out, to stop whatever the fuck this is before it’s too late.

But Lucifer has other ideas.

He senses the change almost immediately, eyes flaring with fear as his claws tighten in Alastor’s chest, hard enough to draw blood.

“Inside.” Lucifer demands as he slams himself down, rutting against Alastor’s stomach to reach his own end sooner, “Cum inside me, Alastor. Don’t-ah!- please don't stop, I’m so close.”

He shudders, rocking his hips in small circles while biting his bottom lip.

Spilling more blood to add to the mess now smeared down to his chest.

And Alastor’s spellbound.

How. How could he ever resist temptation himself when the divine being is begging him for his release. To see Lucifer, the light in the darkest pits of hell, surrendering everything he has into Alastor’s hands.

He throws self-preservation to the wind, succumbing to the siren's song that will echo around his head for all eternity.

“As-” Alastor swallows heavily, unable to stop the tightening of his stomach or the internal chant telling him to fuck in deep, “-As am I,” He pushes the King backward, focusing his eyes on the glory that’s now his as he dances right on the edge, “Fuck, Lucifer.”

He thrusts upwards, burying himself deep inside as he frantically wraps his hand back around Lucifer’s cock, finishing the job he started.

Holding his breath as Lucifer’s eyes lock onto his and he gets to see that beautiful face contort with pure ecstasy.

Apart from those eyes.

The eyes that flicker back to their usual form as their gazes meet.

Even hazy, something unmistakably soft glitters in those golden globes, making whatever foolish ideas Alastor has of stopping dissipate into thin air.

He groans loudly, voice hoarse as finally succumbs and feels his cock paint the King's insides thoroughly. Lucifer matches him almost instantly, that supple body tensing in his lap as his hand becomes slick with spend.

Despite everything he's ensured the King is satisfied a second time.

Made Lucifer his.

And that’s when Alastor feels it.

He growls, eyes rolling as his hips stutter upward and his antlers become almost unbearably heavy. He clings to Lucifer, shockwaves wracking his body as his hips rock uncontrollably. The sensations of completion don’t leave him, rendering him both boneless and even more eager to continue. Alastor somehow pushes in deeper, panting heavily as his physiology attempts the impossible.

His cock feels like it’s swelling. There’s a distinct feeling of Lucifer tightening around him, sure, but it’s different. Like there’s more to that tight feeling. Almost like Alastor’s fattening at the base, stretching Lucifer to his limit as he empties himself deep inside.

Deeper. Harder. .

Alastor’s claws dig into Lucifer’s back, holding him in place, unable to fight the overwhelming urge to buck up into the King’s already overstimulated body. It’s just as overwhelming on his side as he rides them through this new development, the taste of something just out of reach taunting him.

Telling him there’s something more to discover.

The unfamiliar wave passes as they cling to each other, with Alastor only registering that Lucifer is, in fact, coherent, when he feels the pressing of lips on his sweat-slicked collarbone. Even with that heavy fog of lust lifting at a snail's pace, it’s obvious he should put a stop to such pseudo-sentimentality.

But… he decides to allow it.

Mainly because he can. Secondly, because it’s what Lucifer wants. And he intends to stay on his good side.
It’s also because those soft lips are still sending little shivers of pleasure up his spine. And Alastor’s far too surprised by his body’s reactions to such treatment this evening to put a stop to it now.

Not if he wants to get a full picture of whatever the fuck is making him still throb despite having filled Lucifer to the brim mere moments ago. Which, he supposes, is reason enough for him to let out a far too soft-sounding sigh as he wraps one arm around Lucifer’s back, tightening their embrace.

Bringing the other hand up to slowly pet the King’s hair.

Lucifer whimpers at that, his insides tightening reflexivity as he leans into the touch. It causes some of Alastor’s seed to leak out around them, the warm liquid slowly trickling between his legs as the body on top of him goes slack against his chest.

Again, without the cloud of lust it’s a feeling that should be repulsing him, but Alastor can’t find the will to bring this to a close.

Not yet.

They stay there as seconds turn into minutes, their ragged breathing returning to normal as their respective demonic forms fade away. Alastor can feel himself soften inside the King, any lingering panic over that interesting reaction being filed away to dissect at a later date.

But, the change has Lucifer squirming again, the anxieties he has over the situation practically audible.

Which, while stirring his curiosity to no end, just won’t do.

“Shall I get off-”

Alastor tightens the arm across the King’s back, a low growl rumbling from the depths of his chest.

“No,” He spits as Lucifer’s neck cranes upward and their eyes meet, “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

He’s half expecting the King to put up a fight, to pull some stunt where his upper hand will be snatched away far too easily.

Seeing Lucifer’s eyes widen and his face flush anew says the opposite.

On a whim, Alastor brings the hand previously tangled in Lucifer’s soft locks towards his cheek.

He brushes it with the back of his fingers, feeling that heat bloom further under his touch.

Waiting until Lucifer’s lip quivers before sitting up enough to facilitate their lips meeting again.

It’s different from the kisses they’ve shared before, but no less intense. There’s a lack of urgency as he presses his tongue against Lucifer’s, to the point where he’s able to map out the ridge of the fork in his tongue with far greater detail. Even the taste of Lucifer’s blood feels like it’s stirring different feelings inside than the ones it’s incited in him previously.

Even if Alastor can’t place what they all are, he’s not sure he’s ever felt so calm.

But the overwhelming urge for more is at least remarkably consistent.

He deepens the kiss, smirking against Lucifer’s lips when he whimpers, playfully nipping his lower lip when he tries to catch his breath. There’s a yelp, then something that sounds awfully like muffled laughter as Lucifer kisses him back. Alastor cups his cheek, tilting his face to slow the kiss to a crawl, greedily stealing every single noise the King has to offer until they part again, breathless.

Lucifer stares up at him with the same sparkle he’d seen before they reached their end and Alastor quickly feels that same warmth flooding his chest while the cock still inside the King starts to stir again.

Perhaps they could even go for another round-

“It’s almost dawn,” Lucifer whispers into the space between their blood-stained lips.

-Perhaps not.

Alastor sighs, tilting his head towards the skyline to confirm the sliver of light on the horizon, fading the still starry sky with a blue gradient. He’s reminded of the clock he knows will shortly tick down to one and everything that’s still up in the air over the extermination tomorrow.

And the one, burning question dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“The old adage about time flying is true I suppose,” He muses, dancing his fingers down the small of Lucifer’s back as the weight of what’s to come returns to his shoulders, “I suspect the final preparations will begin shortly.”

“Are they ready?” Lucifer asks, expression turning stern, “Don’t sugar coat it.”

Alastor takes a beat, keeping his expression neutral as he decides which route to take.

Of course, his involvement is for less than honourable reasons, not to mention keeping Charlotte alive has the added bonus of keeping their deal intact.

Reasons for taking part aside, he’s fallen in with the ranks, taken part in the strategy meetings, and even trained a few of Rosie’s favourites as a favour to his old friend.

He’s… invested.

While he can’t be entirely honest with Lucifer, he doesn't feel the urge to lie to him while he’s still buried inside him either.

“I believe so, yes.” Alastor answers with a soft smile, hoping the optimism isn’t entirely misplaced, “Your daughter is quite the force to be reckoned with. She’s given them a fighting chance, at least.”

Lucifer breathes a sigh of relief before placing his head on Alastor’s chest, “That’s my girl.”

If Alastor could feel second-hand affection, he’s sure he’d practically bloom at such a sincere statement.

As it stands, he’s far more preoccupied with the question that’s been popping into his head since heaven announced their impending attack on the Hotel.

“However, I’m sure it would be a huge incentive,” He continues stroking the King’s back while hoping Lucifer can’t hear the slight increase in his pulse, “If your subjects were able to count you amongst their ranks, Sire.”

“I can't,” Lucifer inhales sharply, unsuccessfully hiding the cracks in his voice, “I’m contractually obliged not to.”

Something in Alastor’s mind tells him not to prod. That whatever went down between Lucifer and the other seraphim is neither his business nor of any interest to his agenda.

He ignores that voice entirely.

“Surely heaven has voided any arrangement you had by speeding up the extermination proceedings, no?” He questions, hand on Lucifer’s back splaying in what he supposes could be read as a comforting gesture, “And I don’t think threatening your daughter directly constitutes as playing fair, either.”

There’s a beat. One where he’s sure he’s gone too far and will certainly feel his head on a platter if he dares to keep going.

Then he feels his chest becoming damp and the body above him shuddering before a remarkably small voice answers him.

“You’re right.”

Lucifer shudders again before pushing himself into a sitting position, making Alastor hiss as his oversensitive cock shifts inside those still clenching walls.

“I’ll be there in a flash if Adam even dares to lay a finger on her, by the way,” Lucifer continues, expression darkening as he speaks his piece, “The exorcists can’t touch the hellborn. I made sure of that.”

Again, the voice inside his head tells him to drop the subject.

Again, Alastor ignores it.

“That’s all well and good,” He hums, circling the curve of Lucifer’s hips with his thumbs, “But from what I’ve heard about Adam, is this a risk you’re willing to take?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll-” Lucifer pauses, biting his lip as the plan formulates in his head, “I’ll make sure I’m ready for whatever comes. I won’t sit by and let them hurt my daughter.”

He averts his eyes, colour draining from his features, “No matter the consequences.”

Alastor resists the urge to breathe a sigh of relief as some of the long standing tension leaves his body. He rubs Lucifer’s skin with his thumbs, feeling that sensitive body responds so eagerly to his touch as the thought of another round flits through his mind a second time.

Lucifer seems to have the same idea, tension dispelling as his eyes meet Alastor’s, his brow quirks at the erection he can surely feel thickening inside him.

“But you won’t need me,” He laces their fingers together, gently rolling his hips, “I know Charlie can handle herself. She’s done so well,” He leans forward, trailing the fingers of his other hand up Alastor’s chest playfully, “And with her secret weapon to protect her, well. You’ll make sure Adam and his cronies won’t even get close, right?”

Alastor’s upper lip twitches as he tries to keep his expression neutral, “Of course.”